One Night in Bangkok
by Tigertaoiseach
Summary: Weecest Mild AU. Not much between despair and ecstasy, I can feel the devil walking next to me...
1. Romance & Cigarettes

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: _Italics_ are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

Update: I am going to be reposting all of my chapters as I have finally found an amazing beta! All the awards to Tam.

In retrospect, there were many signs. If he'd been paying attention. If he'd really cared. If they had up and moved after a couple weeks the way they usually did. Funnily enough, everything that made their precarious position possible was pretty simple. Or, as simple as anything ever got in their family anyway.

The first sign was Sam's recent obsession with accents. He began practicing different kinds of accents all the time and coveted foreign movies with an unhealthy obsession. Dean teased him: wasn't a Kansas accent good enough for Sam? The first time, Sam had taken him seriously.

"Of course it is! It's sort of like a disguise I guess. But more than that, it can really help sometimes."

"Oh?" Dean had cocked an eyebrow at that, amused by Sam's geeky personality.

"Well, if you listen to someone talk, you can tell pretty quickly where they're from."

"Like a dialect?" Sam paused and looked at Dean wide-eyed, Dean scowled, obviously offended. "Sam, contrary to popular belief, I'm not an idiot."

Sam flushed a little. "I just mean, it's interesting...and helpful. That's all."

Sam crossed his skinny arms over his chest, tipped his head down, and pouted from beneath his bangs. Dean just rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah okay. Whatever you say. Bitch."

"Jerk."

After that, the teasing just became yet another inside joke between them, though secretly, sometimes Dean listened to Sam practicing and he had to admit, the kid was good. He could do anything once he set his mind to it. It never even crossed his mind to wonder why Sam had randomly picked linguistics to fixate on.

Then, the second sign. The fact that while Dean would be flirting with the lady working at the counter, trying to persuade her that _Sweetheart, I really am eighteen and do need a cigarette, I just forgot my I.D. at home today_, Sam would wander off. Well, it wasn't weird that Sam would wander off. Ever since Dean turned thirteen and began flirting incessantly with any girl that crossed his path, Sam was immediately interested in something on the other side of the store or restaurant. When questioned by their father, Sam claimed that girls were gross and Dean was gonna get cooties. After laughing it off, Dean cornered him late that night. Sam may have pulled off the lie with their father, but it didn't fool Dean. Sam confessed.

"It's a weird feeling. Like low in my tummy."

"A bad feeling?"

"Yeah. It's uncomfortable. Like it hurts to watch you be with some girl."

"Would you rather be the one with the girl?"

Sam shook his head vigorously, "I wanna be the one you're talking to!"

Dean had laughed and given him a soft noogie, assuring him that Sam would always be the one that Dean came back to, that the girls didn't mean anything. Sam had no reason to be jealous. Dean had always assumed that Sam was jealous that Dean was spending time with someone who wasn't Sam and off doing things he couldn't do with Sam. He was pretty clingy like that.

Sam still wandered off. Dean had successfully snitched a pack of American Spirits earlier, he was just wheedling the girl for fun. When it seemed pretty apparent that, while she would happily let Dean get his hands all over her, she wasn't going to let him get his hands on any smokes, he decided it was time to find Sam and get some grub. His stomach rumbled and he rubbed at it absently.

"Sam?"

He heard a small clatter followed by the sounds of something scrabbling on the ground. He turned the corner to find a red-faced Sam attempting to pick up a couple of lipsticks that he'd knocked over. Dean's eyebrows visited his hairline.

"Lipstick?"

Sam hastily put them away, but Dean saw him palm a shade and slide it surreptitiously into his back pocket. Dean narrowed his eyes. "Sam? What's up?"

Sam shook his head, blushing impossibly harder. Dean wrapped his arm around the kid's shoulder and guided him out of the Rite-Aid. Once out and sufficiently away from the store, Dean pulled out a cigarette and wedged it between his lips. He pulled out his lighter, flicked it to light the cigarette, puffed a few times and put the lighter away as he gave a grateful sigh. He wasn't addicted to the nicotine; he knew better. Somehow though, the act of smoking was very calming. It also gave him something to do with his hands during potentially awkward conversations, such as the one Sam was currently hedging around.

"Its a kind of curiosity, I guess."

Dean half inclined his head to show that he was listening, without turning to Sam fully. Dean blew the smoke out his nose and Sam was still watching his feet as they idly walked in the general direction of their rented apartment. Dean looked up at the sky; it was his favorite kind of day. No school, warm enough not to need a jacket, but not sweaty or watery-warm. The sun was half peeking from behind a few clouds and the rest of the sky was a beautiful deep robin's egg blue. There was just enough sun to make the pavement shimmer in the distance, a tantalizing oasis.

"I mean, girls wear it all the time so I guess I just wanted to try it out?"

"You wear it?"

Sam tried to backpedal fast. "I-I mean, it's, uh, n-n-not like that, I mean-"

Dean held up his hand, effectively cutting off the rambling river of nonsense of Sam's nervousness. "I'm only wondering Sam, not judging."

Sam turned to face him fully, scrutinizing his face maybe, for some sign that this was all a big joke on him, that any minute now Dean would burst out laughing and push him playfully and tease him mercilessly for the rest of the day. Sam seemed to see the true curiosity in Dean's face because he turned back to face the direction they were walking, but he was looking directly ahead, not at the sidewalk.

"I guess maybe I'm too curious, you know? Like, I know what it's like to be a guy, cause I am one."

Normally, Dean would have interjected, calling him Princess Samantha, but he was too deeply interested in what his younger brother was saying to do that. Sam bit his lip.

"Have you ever wondered, like, what make-up feels like? Or how girls can walk in such high heels? Or such tight clothes?"

Dean took another long drag thoughtfully; he blew out and shut his eyes for a moment.

"No, it never really crossed my mind. But, I'm not nearly as curious as you, Sammy. Have you figured it out?"

Sam took advantage of the fact that Dean wasn't making fun of him to be really honest.

"I would, if I had the chance. I mean, girls shoes fit differently and it's hard to walk out of a store with big pieces of clothes, you know? And it doesn't seem like a good idea to bring women's clothes into the men's dressing room."

Dean snickered at that image, but it wasn't a mean chuckle.

"So, it's all make-up eh? What'dja get this time? Maybelline? Uh, Wet N' Wild?"

Dean hazarded a guess, naming the only brands of make-up he knew, mostly because he'd had to go through a few girls' purses, looking for condoms usually. Sam threw his head back and laughed a little.

"Dean! That's the crappy stuff that high school girls wear! No, I mean like real stuff."

"Oh sorry. Forgot you were the expert on that." Dean mock glared at him and for a second, Sam was convinced that this conversation was about to go to Hell. His nervousness must have showed on his face, because Dean broke out into a small smile. "C'mon Princess. I'm hungry. Let's stop at the cafe before we head back, yeah?"

Sam nodded eagerly, his stomach rumbling on comedic timing.


	2. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: _Italics_ are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

UPDATE: My excellent beta Miss Tam just got back to me with this so it's a new and improved upon version!

Really, at this point, Dean should have at least wondered if his brother was bisexual or gay. Except, to his extreme consternation, Sam didn't seem to have that kind of interest in anyone, male or female. It wasn't that he didn't have friends, he had tons. For being a shy kid, he sure pulled the puppy-dog endearing eyes well. And girls certainly looked at him like that and probably wondered why he didn't try anything.

Hell, Dean wondered too. But, whenever he asked, he was just answered with a shrug. The one time he pressed, Sam just sighed and replied that he was just not that into it, which, for a pre-pubescent boy, was just weird.

So Dean had sat him down and they had "The Talk". It was awkward and sort of gross really. Mostly it was:

_Condoms, Sam. Always. Protection. Seriously. If you don't take any other advice I ever give you, remember this. Not like we need mini-Sams running around or anything._

Sam had made a face at that and Dean laughed, ruffling his hair fondly. Sam had sat patiently through the talk, though he'd already found out just about everything Dean was saying through his research on the internet. Sam was skilled in the computer world and had learned pretty early on how to override the school website-blocking system on the computers in the library and at the public library. Or, well, he'd been managing pretty well. It seemed like there were various blocking techniques employed by the school and Sam got around most of them. Contrary to what he told Dean, Sam was just like every other boy and thought about sex almost incessantly. Except, Sam dealt with that the way that he dealt with everything: researching it.

This ranged from everything like normal porn, to clinical websites, to BDSM sites and chat rooms. The sites detailing things in a clinical, detached manner were most prevalent and Sam appreciated the scientific approach. In terms of actual porn, he'd once found some images, but they were drawn and seemed pretty unrealistic. So maybe he'd never actually seen a naked girl. So what? Sam was much more interested in the hows and whys than the pictures. Plus, he had a vivid imagination and a brother who moaned like a paid actor whenever he ate pie. Sam was never lacking in jerking off material. At this point, he was willing to wager he even knew more about sex than Dean, but Sam's information was all just theoretical. No practice. Sam was very much okay with that. Sure, he experimented, who didn't? But, while the privacy of the shower was an okay place to do such things, he was certainly not comfortable sharing that sort of very private part of himself with anyone else, certainly not some girl that was just a random hook up. He didn't know how Dean did it.

The funny thing was that, in one day, all of the variables that led later to a very complicated and confusing cluster-fuck, fell into place, solely by accident. Mostly, anyway. It began with Dean and Sam, sitting in front of the T.V., as per usual on a summer morning. Summer had just begun, and John was going to take advantage of it. He was rearing to go. While John was making himself and Dean coffee, Dean commented on a commercial.

"Hey! I totally saw that jacket in the mall in town. It looks so cool. I bet it's really comfy." Dean looked wistful.

"Why don't you get it?" Sam queried.

Dean looked at him like he'd recently given away his brain to charity. "It's super expensive. It's like some designer brand thing. C'mon Sam. We don't have that kind of money and it's not really worth getting caught shoplifting."

Sam had to admit he had a point there. Just as Sam was mulling this over, John came into the room and passed a steaming mug of coffee to Dean, and a steaming mug to Sammy, full of hot chocolate. Sam narrowed his eyes at his father. John only ever made hot chocolate for Sam when he was about to say something that Sam wouldn't like at all.

"There's a hunt." Dean was all ears. Sam watched his father stoically, not even looking down when he raised the white porcelain to his lips. It was made with milk. His father was really feeling guilty. "I think Dean should come with me."

A stunned silence descended upon the room for a beat. Dean broke it first.

"What? And leave Sam all alone? Seriously?"

John sighed and sat down, grabbing the remote and silencing the explosions on T.V. Sam's confusion quickly turned to a cold rage, the depths of which even frightened Sam a little bit.

"Look, there's a couple of options here. The first is that we pack up and move a few states over, that's a hunt I can do alone. Or, we can stay here, and Dean comes with me, for back up. Sam, Dean needs to get experience hunting. Dean, Sam's twelve years old. Plenty old enough to be left alone."

"How long?" Dean wanted to know.

Sam yanked his gaze from his dad and stared at his brother open mouthed. _Seriously?_ Dean was choosing to go on the hunt and leave Sam alone? Sam shook his head and blinked a few times, floored, before he could clear his throat and turn his brain back on. _Of course Dean wanted to go hunting. He loved it. He loved their father. But, didn't he love me too? _

Sam racked his brain. _Have I been more annoying than normal lately? Have I done something? Is Dean mad at me and just jumping at the chance to get away from his dumb-ass little brother for awhile? Or, God forbid, is Dean resentful that in the past he'd always been made to stay home with Sam_?

Dean had been staying home without Dad since he was seven or eight. Sam felt a combination of remorse, guilt, sadness, and shame. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Sam tried to think if anything in particular had happened recently; something he should have been sorry for but was too busy being a brat?

Certainly, they had argued after Dean had found a porn magazine that Sam had hidden away. Dean had made fun of him and Sam wanted none of it. He assumed Dean had thrown the skin magazine away, because it was gone when he came out of the bathroom an hour later and Dean was napping. Other than that though, nothing. At least, not that recently, he didn't think. A series of emotions flitted over Sam's face, but Dean remained blank faced.

"A couple of weeks. No more than 15 days. I'd leave you with enough groceries and money, Sam. I trust you."

**Wow**, Sam wished that that sentence didn't make him as proud and happy as it did. Sam bit his lower lip and stared at his hands clasped in his lap for a moment.

"Yeah. Okay."

His voice was softer than he'd intended and there was a hitch in his breath that he hated. John nodded, looked at his youngest once more, and stood up to answer the phone that had just begun ringing. Dean immediately turned to Sam.

"I mean, hey. This way we can stay in one place a little longer, huh?"

Sam looked up at that, puzzled. Dean looked... concerned. Like he was waiting for Sam's approval.

"I guess it gets pretty boring just hanging around with your baby brother all the time huh?" He didn't mean for it to come out as bitter as it did. Dean's face creased with guilt and worry.

"Sammy, it's not that at all. You think I wanna leave you? Hell no. But, I won't be gone for very long and I'll probably be able to convince Dad to stay here for longer, maybe until the end of the year even."

That was probably an exaggeration, but Sam appreciated the sentiment. He nodded and gave Dean a small smile.

"Guess I'll have to find something to entertain myself then."

Dean smiled and nudged him with his shoulder fondly.

"Figured you'd spend it all in the library. Geek."

Sam stuck out his tongue at his brother. Just then, John called Dean to come speak with him. In private. Fifteen minutes later, Dean came back.

"Alright. I guess I'm gonna pack. We're heading out today."

Sam tailed him around the house as Dean stuffed his duffle, talking about all the different ways he was going to gank the monster. When Sam asked what the monster was, Dean paused, perplexed.

"I hadn't asked yet..."

Sam laughed because that was such a Dean thing to do and that just bolstered Dean's good mood. A small part of Sam was angry that Dean could be so happy in preparing to leave him, but he reminded himself that Dean was actually doing this for him and that he wouldn't really be gone all that long at all. As they were walking out the door, after ten minutes of Dean packing and Sam patiently listening to his brother's incessant fretting, Dean turned around and braced his hands on Sammy's shoulders.

"Sam. I'm calling every night at 5pm sharp. I swear if you don't answer that phone I'll be halfway back here by 5:30..."

"Dean!"

Sam had rolled his eyes exasperatedly while Dean puttered around, mother-henning until John called amusedly for him to get his ass into the Impala. Dean turned to go and, before he could stop himself, Sam stepped forward and fisted his hand in the back of Dean's jacket. Dean halted. Sam finished stepping forward and leaned his forehead against the warmth of his back, seeping through the cheap cotton.

"Just. Be careful. Okay?"

"Promise, Sammy."


	3. The Rocky Horror Show

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: _Italics_ are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

UPDATE: My excellent beta Miss Tam just got back to me with this so here's the new and improved version.

Sam let go and stepped back from the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe long after he'd lost sight of the sleek black car heading off into the distance. After awhile, he shook himself and went back inside, locking the door and checking the salt line. He amused himself watching T.V. and making himself a few sandwiches and drinking milk straight from the carton, the way his father hated.

He slouched low on the inexpensive couch that sagged with age. He knew that Dean had hidden a pocket-knife in the folds on the right armrest; had watched him slip it there the day they moved in. Sam reached over for it, drawing it out slowly. He let his eyes rove over the tiny blade and catch the glint as he flipped it. In. Out. In. Out.

A few months before, Sam had been practicing his knife flipping technique. Or rather, Dean's knife flipping technique. Sam wanted to perfect it in secret and show his big brother that he could learn to do things on his own; Dean didn't need to teach him everything. A couple days into the practicing, Sam hadn't really been focusing. He'd just had a terribly awkward experience involving desperately trying to hide his embarrassingly ill-timed erection from his father and brother at the dinner table. The fact that Dean was enthusiastically enjoying his pudding really didn't help. As Sam was musing on just exactly how he'd managed to become so fucked up in his fraternal love, the knife slipped. It bit deep into his palm, as knives are wont to do. Sam had panicked and ran for the bathroom.

However, upon reaching his destination and carefully cleaning, then bandaging the wound, it occurred to him that pain was a pretty good distraction. As in, he hadn't thought about Dean at all during the Knife Debaucle. And not thinking about Dean for more than a few seconds, well. That was revolutionary. Sam had decided at the time that this seemed like an excellent solution, also to make sure he'd never forget just how wrong his feelings were. That he'd never try anything to ruin his and Dean's relationship.

Before he had a chance to think, Sam was yanking his socks off and rolling up his pajama pants. He set the very tip of the knife to the soft spot on his heel and pressed down. He watched, fascinated, as a single drop of blood welled up. Sam's eyes glazed over. Then he swiped at the same spot again, putting all the frustration, loneliness, boredom, worry, fear, jealousy, and betrayal that Dean's leaving prompted into the slice. He sliced his heel much deeper than he meant to and hissed at the pain, **God**_ that felt good._ He wiped the blade on his skin and replaced it in the couch.

He let his eyelids drift half-closed and dozed for a few hours. By the time he came to, it was pretty late, maybe 2am. He blinked sleepily and rubbed at his eyes. He pawed at the remote, trying to turn the T.V. off, but accidentally turned it to a different channel instead. The noises suddenly coming from the T.V. woke him up pretty fast.

He peered closer at the screen. He watched in fascination as two guys approached a girl standing outside of a bar, leaning casually against the wall. He wondered if she was cold in the skimpy outfit. The guys pulled her into the alley and the camera followed.

They handed over some money, which she stuck in her purse, and Sam sucked in his breath. _She was a prostitute. Except, hold on, what was that?_ Sam leaned farther forward on his elbows. He would have laughed at the image he made, waiting with bated breath while watching porn of all things, but he was pretty immersed in the moment.

The girl was hiking up her obscenely short skirt and adjusting her panties..._but what was she adjusting?_ Sam's eyes gave saucers a run for their money in terms of size. _That was definitely a dick._ Sam blinked. He blinked again. His brow furrowed in confusion. The guys obviously knew this girl was... a guy, and yet there they were, having sex with her anyway. And in the same manner as if she, uh, he was really a she. Sam was confused. And extremely turned on.

The arousal could always be explained away by his age, or his gender really. But, the most troubling part of it all, was that, in imagining himself in the scene, he immediately pictured himself in the role of the boy-girl...er...transvestite?

Sam scrubbed at his eyes and turned the T.V. off resolutely deciding it was time for bed. He cleaned his foot quickly, debating whether stitches were needed, but he decided that they weren't worth the trouble. After he was finished, he quickly checked the carpet for incriminating evidence, but it was so heavily stained that one more wasn't noticeable at all. He shuffled off to the bedroom.

But, he didn't get much sleep that night. He couldn't stop wondering what it would be like. To have people treat him like a girl. To have sex like a girl. Sam blushed fiercely. There was also the added bonus of money and Sam was raised to really value money earned, no matter how strange or unseemly the occupation might appear. It's not like he'd ever been taught to obey the law.

Just as he had been turning the T.V. off, the commercial for the jacket Dean had liked from earlier had come on. _Maybe... no. But, could he earn money that way...no way. Dean really liked that jacket though...no. It might be a good way to show Dean how sorry he is...but what if something went horribly wrong?_ Dean would be so disappointed if he found out about this. A mean voice in Sam's head piped up that _if Dean was going to be going on hunts with their father now, he might not be around enough to notice_.

Maybe he wouldn't care. Sam had obviously done something. He was sure of it. Even with Dean's reassurances, Sam knew that a few months ago, Dean never would have left him. In fact, it was exactly five months ago that Dean started leaving Sam for more than an hour at a time. Sam had a suspicious feeling that Dean leaving him for longer periods of time coincided directly with his revelation about Sam's make up obsession. It was also then that Sam had wanted to impress Dean and find something to do with his newfound time alone, ultimately resulting in the Knife Debaucle. Sure, Sam would be totally grossed out, (or a bit intrigued as the years progressed) at the girls Dean would bring back with him, but even if he was just outside, in the Impala or lurking in an alley, he was never gone very long. He'd come sauntering in, just bursting to tell Sam, (in unfortunately graphic detail), exactly what he had been doing.

Now though, Dean went out at night. He'd stay out for hours, like it was nothing. Oh sure, he'd be home when Sam got back from school or when he woke up, but once the sun set, it had become fairly routine for Dean to go out, at least for a couple of hours. Recently, that had stretched into many hours. Sam still hadn't gotten used to it.

He'd wait up until he heard Dean sneaking around, never as quiet as he thought he was. Sometimes, Dean was drunk. Mostly he was only a little tipsy. Sam didn't understand why anyone would want to lose control of their body and mind, but considering both his father and Dean indulged, there had to be something he was missing.

Maybe, as long as Dean was out of the picture, (and shit, didn't that physically **hurt **to think?), Sam would try his hand at drinking. It might make selling himself easier. _Or, it might put you in even more danger, _said the voice in his head. He tossed and turned the idea over and over that night and woke up the next morning, having made his decision.


	4. March of the Stilletos

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

This has been revised and beta'd by the lovely Miss Tammy! Hope you enjoy!

A/N: _Italics_ are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other fonts represent characters' writing.

Chapter 4: March of the Falsettos

_The thing to remember, _Sam reminded himself, _was first to breathe. Then, to make a list. A list of things he needed, things he needed to know, and, well, the basic expectations of a hooker._ He flinched inwardly at his own use of the word. He steeled himself and tried again, this time out loud.

"Whore."

And holy Hell, his insides twisted themselves into knots and a lump appeared in his throat that made it extremely hard to swallow, but that wasn't a problem since his mouth had become mysteriously dry, and he was unconsciously scratching at the insides of his wrists, a bad habit he'd never managed to break and-

"Breathe."

_Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Okay. Better. A list._ Sam walked resolutely over to the kitchen table, found a legal pad and a pencil and began trying to think of what he'd need for this to actually work.

1. Girl clothes

_So this one would probably be the easiest._ The mall was within walking distance, as was a Rite-Aid. Sam figured he could use his five-finger discount on the smaller things. As for actual clothes though... Sam looked at the money his father had left him. _Wasn't that funny? He was going to use his father's money to buy women's clothes so he could wear them and sell himself._ As bile began to rise in his throat, he quickly moved on to the next item on the list.

2. Girl shoes

He figured the same thing went for this. His feet were rather large, for girl's feet, but he was confident he'd be able to find some sort of heel that fit him. Oh. Well, he'd have to learn to walk in them too. _Can't be very seductive when you're tripping over your own feet, and wasn't that just like him to be rationalizing things this way?_ Sam rolled his eyes.

3. Accessories

_Bras were probably unnecessary. Fishnets? Maybe. Stockings? Also a maybe. Jewelry? Only really cheap, costume stuff. Purse? Something small with a short strap so he could keep it close...a money clip to put in it... it'd have to be big enough to fit a small gun._ Sam was no fool. He knew that what he was going to be involved in was extremely risky, especially with his father and Dean out of town. He didn't let himself think about it too much, though, because it was (definitely) one of the most idiotic ideas he'd had in awhile.

4. Pricing

Sam had no idea what to charge for various sexual acts. It wasn't exactly something covered in standard books, even the economics books he'd browsed in the library. He'd learned a lot about supply and demand, about market rates, but nothing about hooker prices. This could possibly be accomplished on the internet. If he couldn't find any exact amounts, he supposed he could wait and see if his first...client offered an amount. It wasn't really like he could just ask a random person on the street: hey, do you know what the going rate for hookers is? Although, he supposed, there was always the option of seeking out a practicing hooker and getting some tips on charging, but Sam felt uncomfortable discussing it with someone else. He especially didn't want to accidentally run into any pimps and have to be whored out and pay most of his earnings to some over-muscled barbarian.

5. Locate the nearest hospital

_Just in case._ Sam didn't expect anything untoward, but then again, he couldn't exactly call the police. That wasn't exactly new to him though, he was a Winchester. The police didn't believe in the paranormal, much less know anything of use. Besides, his father had always taught them that if they wanted to get something done right, they'd have to do it themselves. The hospital wouldn't just fix him up and let him go though. They'd try and call his family or the police or CPS and everything would be even worse. Not that Sam thought anything was going to happen though. _He was just being prepared. Dean would want him to be safe._

**Oh. God. Dean.** Sam had to run to the toilet, but he wasn't retching really. He leaned his head down on the cool tile floor and laid with his back against the shower/tub. It was uncomfortable, but Sam didn't really care to move immediately. _What would Dean say?_ He tried to picture the conversation, but every time it ended with Dean hating him, Dean disowning him, Dean throwing him out, Dean tying him up so he could never leave the house again, Dean taking advantage of his newfound skills,... _Hold on._

Sam's mind ground to a halt and if minds made noise, it would have sounded like the screech of brakes leaving black streaks on the street. That last thought he'd had. What was that about? Dean taking... _Hell no. Nope._ He was so not going there. For once, he thought that his father and Dean had the right idea in not over thinking things and simply not thinking about them at all and expecting them to go away.

He wasn't naive enough to think this was going to go away, but at least he could mull it over at a time when he wasn't plotting how to become a woman. And a whore. But currently, just a woman. So, Sam managed to drag himself off the cold tile and heave his body onto the sink. He ran the water and splashed his face a few times, before looking up into the mirror. He scrutinized himself, but in a different way than normal. _Okay. So._ He would take a size small. Girls pants were different, he knew that, but he couldn't remember if they were numbered odd or even and how he would know which would fit him. Which meant he'd need to try things on. _Fuck that._

Not for the first time that day, the internet saved Sam what could have otherwise been possibly the most awkward and/or embarrassing trip of his life. Between a few different opinions posted on various websites, he decided to go for a 3/4, stretch pants, so they wouldn't rip at the crotch area. Obviously, they were going to have to be cheap and the problem was mostly how much he would be blushing when he went to purchase them and Sam had never wished for a sister more in his life than right now.

Squaring his shoulders and deciding to take it like a man, and how silly a thought was that?, Sam resolutely pocketed his father's cash, keys and walked out the front door. Once in the mall, he had a bit of difficulty determining where to shop exactly. He didn't want to be anywhere too wholesome, like Gap or The Broadway, because he wasn't really prepared to deal with comments from other customers, much less the employees. His eyes fell on a store called Hot Topic, right next to one called Spencer's. Both looked dark inside and somewhat promising. He walked into Hot Topic.

Immediately, he turned to walk out again when he heard soft laughter behind him. He turned around slowly to see a couple of girls and a guy standing behind the counter grinning at him. The guy was covered in tattoos. Like, he'd shaved his head so he could tattoo it too. One girl was unhealthily skinny and popping her gum like it was going out of style. They were both grinning at him like sharks, multiple piercings in unexpected places glinting in the low lighting. The third one though, she was smiling kindly. Sam stuttered.

"S-sorry. Um, I mean, uh..."

The first two burst out laughing and Sam ducked his head, flushing a charming shade of ripe tomato. The third one though, she cuffed the guy around the head, much like Dean would cuff Sam, and frowned, walking out and over to him. Sam looked up at her through his bangs. They were almost the same height, he noticed. She was maybe a couple inches taller. She was very curvy, voluptuous Dean would say, with flaming red hair that curled in impossible ways, framing her full catlike face. Her eyes were almost the exact same shade as Dean's and Sam, unwillingly, felt immediately more at ease.

"C'mere Honey. Don't mind them. They're morons who need to get a life."

"Awww Lexy, you flatter me."

Lexy turned half way, made an obscene gesture towards them and turned back to Sam's awed face. She smirked at him.

"What's up Kiddo?"

Sam smiled. "You remind me of someone."

She smiled gently. "Well, maybe I can be of some help to you. I'm not judging here, I'm in no position to anyway, but you look a little lost, and not just in the proverbial way. What exactly are you here for?"

Sam knew immediately that he liked her. So he decided to spill. "Um. Well. See, I sort of. um. Want to weargirlsclothesbutIdon''thavemuchmoney-"

"Whoa there! Easy Honey."

Unthinkingly, she laid a calming hand on his shoulder. Even though it was half the size of Dean's hand, it was in the same spot and just as warm. The tension in Sam bled out through that warmth.

"Now. Go slow, okay?"

Sam nodded, bit his lip, and stared at the ground. He closed his eyes and spoke slowly.

"I would like to buy some girls clothes, but I don't know my size or how to figure it out. I don't know where to buy things, or even what to buy. And I don't have much money either."

He looked up quickly, anticipating the disgusted, confused look. He got neither of those. Lexy looked at him sympathetically, but not in the way that makes him squirm and feel like a baby who needs to be pampered.

"Do you have anything yet?"

"Um. I have some make up."

"Like what?"

She was speaking gently, but not slowly enough to insult his intelligence. He thought that she was treating him like an animal that might startle and run at the slightest provocation. He didn't think she was very far off.

"Lipstick. Mascara. Face powder. Some hair clips."

Lexy pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Okay. Well. My shift actually had just ended when you came in, so, why don't you let me help you? Make up and things like that, hair products, lotions, and perfumes, are probably cheapest at drug stores and Rite-Aid. There's also that five-fingered discount, which I'm sure you're familiar with. I know, of course, that you'd never actually do anything like that yourself."

She winked and Sam blushed a deep rouge. He averted his eyes and that was all the answer she needed. She laughed lightly.

"Don't worry so much. Now. More importantly, I need to get some sort of idea of where you're going. Obviously, different clothes and make up for different occasions, you know?"

Sam nodded and hesitated.

"It's...not a good place. I mean, I need to look, um, really pretty. Sort of s-s-slutty."

The last word came out in a stuttering rush and he bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood. He looked up at her and knew immediately that she understood. She just looked sad. That sort of look between being resigned and being so desperately sorry that someone else had to go through these things.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. I am."

She cocked her head to the side, appraising him. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find, because she nodded quickly, and pulled him to the entrance of the store. She turned half way.

"See you fuckers tomorrow!"

"Yeah yeah yeah."

"Okay. So. Underwear and clothes we can find in JCPenny. Probably some costume jewelry too. Footwear, we may have to go to Macy's, depending on what's in stock. I'll write you up a list of things you should pick up at a drug store too."

Sam just blinked and let himself be towed along in her wake.

"Why?"

Lexy paused, in her monologue, but not in her pace. "Why what?"

"Why're you helping me?"

She gave a half smile and looked away wistfully. "You remind me of someone too."

The next couple of hours flew by without incident. Lexy picked out clothes, miraculously managed to find Sam's size on the first try, and found things that were on sale and whipped out these different coupons from who knows where. Sam was dizzy with all the clothes and shoes and dressing rooms he was dragged to and from. The first time she shoved him in a dressing room and came in with him before she closed the door, he had a moment of wondering if maybe this was her true intent, to hurt him or something along those lines.

"Um. Maybe you could wait outside?"

Lexy fixed him with a look that just screamed Dean.

"Sam. You are trying on outfits that would probably scar the women out there for life. Remember, not everyone is nearly so nice. Or open minded. And you don't know whether things fit right, correct?"

Sam nodded. He was totally flushed. Lexy raised an eyebrow. Sam hesitantly began pulling his shirt off. Lexy was not amused.

"Okay seriously? This is a snail's pace. Strip boy!"

Sam looked at her with wide eyes and immediately began shucking off his clothes with a "Yes Ma'am!"

By the time they had finished, Sam was completely outfitted with just about everything he'd need, with twenty bucks to spare. He was secretly convinced that Lexy had somehow managed to find a way to pay for some of his things without him noticing, but he didn't want to say anything because he knew she'd deny it. Because that's what Dean would do.

"Okay Kid. Here's some things I recommend, in the shades I recommend and..." She trailed off, looking at him. She took back the piece of paper and scribbled on it some more before she handed it back.

"What's this?"

"That's a hospital near here. If you go in and ask for Dr. Tanen and say Alexa sent you, he won't ask any questions and he's very good at what he does. This is the name of a company that operates all over the U.S. It's reliable and a safe place for men and women who...earn their wage in an unconventional way. And that's my cell. You can call any time, you hear? I get the feeling you're in this on your own, but you don't have to be."

Sam stared. He blinked a few times and looked away. If he looked at her any longer he'd start crying and that was the last thing he needed. He nodded and clutched the paper to his chest.

"I can't... I don't even... Just. Thank you."

Lexy grinned at him and swatted him on the behind.

"Go get 'em Tiger."


	5. Sweet Charity

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

Revised and beta'd by the wonderful Miss Tammy! I'm on a role re-posting chapters 4, 5, and 6. :D

A/N: _Italics_ are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other fonts represent characters' writing.

Chapter 5: Sweet Charity

As it turned out, picking up the items Lexy had written down was pretty easy. He didn't even have to use the last twenty, though he kept assuring himself that he was going to be making money and_ not to panic._ He was just unloading his purchases to survey, when the phone rang. It was 5:01pm.

"You're a minute late." Sam smiled as he heard his brother huffing on the other end of the line.

"Well, 'cause we don't have the Geek Squad, I had to spend the day in some ratty library, looking at old fucking books. Dad just picked me up."

Sam gasped in mock horror. "Dean! Libraries are our friends!"

"Fuck you."

"Say please."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Sam heard their father's voice in the background, telling Dean to hurry it up, they had dinner to eat and then work to do. This was hunting time, godammit, not marathon-phone-conversing-with-your-brother time. Dean sighed.

"Dad says hey."

"Yeah I bet he does."

"Sammy..."

"Whatever. Be careful and don't let those musty old books get you down. I'm sure you'll get to shoot something soon."

"Is that condescension I hear?"

"Shut up."

"Bye Sammy."

"Bye Dean."

Sam was grinning and humming to himself, something that may or may not have been Smoke on the Water, as he got dressed for the night. He kept up a running commentary with himself, double and triple checking everything before he left so he wouldn't have time to get scared and back out of it._ He had a small handbag, just big enough for a money clip, a knife, and his gun. He had another, slightly more compact knife in his boots. He gave himself a few hours practice walking around in them. Lexy knew he'd never worn high heels and had made him get boots that were wedges, but they were still a little tricky_. He looked perfunctorily in the mirror before heading out, but did a double take at the final product.

_He looked...like a girl._ He frowned. _Not a very old girl. _Maybe 14 or 15. He was so skinny and obviously had no boobs so that was a bit of a detractor. But the hair extensions he'd found looked pretty nice and even if they weren't the exact same color as his hair, he was banking on it always being too dark for anyone to notice. He'd made sure to secure them tightly in case anyone pulled his hair. Lexy had convinced him to get waterproof make up to combat sweat and "any other...substances that may come into contact with your face", as she had delicately put it.

Sam was under no illusions. He knew that there were going to be scumbags he'd have to scare off and that he was going to be used in disgusting ways, but it would be worth it, he assured himself. Or well, he wouldn't be scaring off all of the scumbags. He'd be manipulating them, using them as they were using him. It was the violent scumbags he'd have to worry about. Sam sent up a quick prayer to anything that might lend him an ear to avoid those people. Sam knew Dean didn't believe in angels, but he did. What he wasn't sure about was whether they gave a damn what happened to him. Especially when it would be his fault if anything happened. He pictured himself giving Dean the jacket and smiled slightly. _Yeah. It would be worth it._

As soon as he was outside, he started shivering. It wasn't tremendously cold out, but in a short skirt and tank top, he felt goosebumps coming out all over his skin. He walked the couple of blocks to a bar he had noticed earlier. He'd peeked inside and, based on the crowd he'd observed, figured that if there was any place to start, it was here. Sam had planned on having to wait around for a while before anyone noticed him or realized what he was there for. In fact, he didn't have to wait long at all.

A woman came storming out of the bar, swaying a bit, and smelling like cheap vodka as she rounded on the man chasing after her. He'd grabbed her arm and swung her around. Sam was vaguely surprised she didn't keel over in the heels she was wearing, considering how drunk she appeared.

"You can't even keep your eyes to yerself for a godammned secon!"

"Now hold up, darlin'..."

"Donchu Darlin me suh."

She smacked his hand away from her and hurried away. He made to follow her, but at the glare she gave him, he stopped, hand still outstretched.

"Fuck it all."

As the man turned slightly, Sam could see how hard he was, tenting his old, hole-filled jeans, and had more sympathy for the drunken girl. He hoped, for her sake, that she wasn't his girlfriend. During the time Sam had spent practicing high heels, he'd also been practicing his girl voice. He'd only had to pitch it up one octave, since his voice hadn't changed yet, but it had taken a small toll on his throat. Consequentially, he coughed.

It caught the man's attention. He turned slowly and took a few steps towards where Sam was leaning in against the wall, forcing himself to look casual with one foot pressed against the wall behind him, like he'd seen a girl model in a magazine somewhere. Sam pretended not to notice him at first.

"Well hey there, Sweet thang."

Now, Sam had to acknowledge the man. Even as he felt the bile rising in his throat, he tried for a small smile. _What did Dean call it? Being coy?_ Whatever it was, it worked, or maybe the man was just really drunk, or some weird combination of the two. For whatever reason, the man was up in Sam's face pretty quickly. It took every ounce of self-control to hold still and look the man square in the face. He was slightly worried that nerves would mess him up, but his voice was steady and high, sounding calm and collected. He decided to stick with a Brooklyn accent, one he'd been recently practicing.

"That's quite a problem you have there, Mister."

Internally, Sam railed at himself. He wished fervently that he'd thought to watch something other than Dean's pirated, and therefore awful, porn before attempting this. The man didn't seem to mind.

"I'm guessin may-haps you could help me with it, Miss?"

Sam really wanted to punch the drawl right out of his mouth.

"If you've gawt cash, I've gawt awll the time you need."

_And wow, really? That was the pick up line of the night? _Even at 12, Sam knew that there had to be a better way to go about things. This guy though, he just grinned, looking for all the world like a shark, and got even closer to Sam's face.

"Sure you can't give me a freebie, Honey?"

Sam shook his head, considered, and answered.

"Maybe I can give you a discount though."

The guy grinned again and backed up enough to reach his wallet. Sam took the opportunity to breathe fresh air while it lasted.

"Whaddya chargin?"

"Going rate for a hand jawb is $75."

The guy's face contorted with anger.

"That's robbery!"

Sam pasted the smile back on his face quickly, holding a placating hand up. "Discount remember?"

The guy relaxed a bit. Sam bit the inside of his cheek.

"$60."

"$40."

"$50 or you go home to yaw friend back there."

Sam tried to look as serious as possible. It must have worked. The man riffled through his wallet for a moment before handing over two twenties and a ten. Sam disguised his excitement by using the motion to open his purse. He placed the money in there and had hardly finished zipping up the purse when the man was back in his space.

"What's your name, pretty little thing?"

He whispered in Sam's ear. Sam couldn't help it, he shuddered.

"Samantha."

The man panted words of praise and huffs against Sam's ear as he managed to work the guy's jeans open. He shoved his hand inside, but took a little time to tease his fingers around the waistband, before plunging inside. If it had been a different situation, Sam might have started laughing. The guy was rock hard and dripping at the tip. Sam smeared the wetness around with his thumb and decided the angle wasn't as awkward as he'd feared. He twined his other arm around the guy's neck, for something to do, and dipped the edge of his fingernail into the slit. The guy gasped and bucked up into his fist.

Luckily for Sam, seeing as how this was his first, the guy was not very big. In fact, he was about the same as Sam, and seemed to be okay with the things Sam himself liked. Loose on the way down, tight coming up. A little twist near the top every so often. Sam was kneading the guy's shoulders and feeling like this was something he could handle, maybe even something he was good at. Until the guy started kissing him.

For some reason, Sam hadn't expected the kissing. He was stunned for a moment, before the guy writhed impatiently and got Sam's brain back on track. _Right. Okay._ Sam had no idea how to kiss. He was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to involve this much spit though. For now, he just opened his mouth and let the guy tongue fuck him. It was strangely pleasant, in a sort of detached way. Sam didn't think hookers were actually supposed to enjoy their line of work, but what did he know?

On another lucky stroke, (no pun intended), the guy was already on the edge before he started kissing Sam, so it didn't take very long at all to send him over. In fact, right around the time that Sam was starting to figure out to tilt his head and to slide his tongue in as well, the guy was coming everywhere. _That. Was. Disgusting. Holy. Shit._ Sam had never needed a long hot shower more than he did in that moment. He shuddered, wondering if scalding water would be enough to wash this off? If he'd still be able to feel the stickiness or smell it after? The guy was grinning as he pushed off the wall, tucking himself back in. Sam was out of breath. The guy leered.

"Well. I'll be sure to recommend you to all my friends, Samantha Sweetheart. Stay outside this bar and you'll get some good business."

The guy leaned in for one more kiss and then left, as quickly as he'd come, (pun intended that time). Sam leaned against the cool brick behind him and closed his eyes, gathering his bearings. He checked the watch that he'd slipped in the purse as an after thought just before leaving. It was only 10:30. He'd been tempted to take a short nap earlier, so he wouldn't fall asleep on the job. Adrenaline and nervousness had cancelled that idea pretty quickly. He looked down at himself.

Lexy had asked him how realistic he wanted to appear and suggested that he might consider 'tying it down'. She'd actually blushed when he asked what that meant, but she'd drawn a quick sketch and suggested very soft material for the job. He was glad now that she had done so. He felt his cock twitch against its bindings and he felt vaguely sick. _It was just his body reacting to sexual acts, _his mind helpfully supplied. Sam couldn't help but feel somewhat disgusted that he could be so easily turned on.

Sam waited for another hour or so, until he was sure he'd catch his death from exposure, before he headed home. He supposed $50 was nothing to sneeze at. He hadn't been completely sure that people would be willing to pay the rates he'd come up with, but if everyone was as willing to comply as tonight's guy, he'd be able to save a small fortune. _Besides a jacket for Dean, he might even be able to get some nice things for himself. Maybe some new jeans for when school began in the fall. _**Or books.**_ Oh._ Sam's eyes sort of glazed over for a second, thinking about all the books he'd be able to buy, and not have to steal.

By the time he was drawn out of his biblio-fantasy, he was home. He unlocked the door and let himself in quietly, before he remembered there was no one to be quiet for. He checked the salt lines and everything, changed into his jammies, and collapsed on his bed. He'd shower in the morning. Not like there was anyone around to care if he stank and looked horrible. He closed his eyes. If he thought about what was covering his right now, he'd get nauseated and then there'd be puke in his bed to clean up too.


	6. Your Number's Up

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

Revised and beta'd by the wonderful Miss Tammy! I will try very hard to get chapter 19 up this weekend, although I make no guarantees!

A/N: _Italics_ are thoughts. **Bold **is memories. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

Chapter 6: Your Number's Up

It was three nights later that Sam was paid to perform his first blow job. In a sense, he was learning to take advantage of men's drunkenness for his services. On the one hand, they were usually out of it enough that if he sort of messed up they either laughed it off, smiled indulgently, or just didn't notice. On the other hand though, somehow being drunk made it harder for them to reach orgasm so Sam was still honing his skills. The next night, besides throwing his Australian accent for a loop, he was actually tipped afterwards. Sam didn't know what to do with the pride rising in his chest at that.

It was the sixth night of Samantha's business when the Irish accent was used and trouble struck. There didn't seem to be a connection between the two, but then again, why chance things? Sam was a little surprised that it took so long for something to go awry. Sam didn't actually remember much of the night, but the snippets he had were terrifying.

"Hey Sweetheart, lemme buy you a drink huh?"

"Oi'll just have a soda, tank you."

The soda had tasted a little strange, almost too sweet or something.

"So, I hear you cost a pretty penny for your services."

Sam batted his eyelashes, looking up through his bangs. "Oi hear Oi'm pretty wuth it."

The man laughed, throwing his head back. He leered at Sam and Sam barely suppressed a shiver.

"What about the real thing though?"

Sam had frowned and taken another sip of soda, as he realized what the guy was asking. He shook his head firmly, coming to a rapid decision. He berated himself internally for not having considered this turn of events, but it simply hadn't occurred to him.

"No. Hand jobs, blow jobs. Tat's moi last."

The guy grinned in a way that Sam distinctly did not like. He took another gulp of soda to disguise his apprehension.

"We'll just see about that then."

The next thing he remembered was being somewhere cramped and dark, maybe a car. He thought he'd hit his head on the way in, the way it was throbbing, but maybe it was whatever he'd been drugged with.

"Oh yeah honey, just spread for me like a pretty little whore."

Pain. There was lots of pain. The sound of something ripping. A metallic smell. Blood?

"Ooh, looks like Samantha is a pretty little boy huh?"

He blacked out again. The next memory he had was stepping wobbly out of the car. There was blood on his hands, but he didn't think it was his. He looked around groggily, checking to make sure he had all of his clothes on and his purse. All of Sam's movements were slow and deliberate. He lost consciousness for a third time. He woke up for good lying face down on his bed, still fully clothed. He had gingerly stripped and wobbled into the shower, checking for injuries. He wasn't bleeding, but there was definitely dried blood caked around his asshole. He scrubbed it away, wincing.

_Okay. Calm down. Let's see._

Sam tried in vain to remember whether the man last night had used a condom. The pit of his stomach dropped when he couldn't recall.

"Going on the assumption that he didn't then."

Sam leaned heavily on the bathroom counter, staring at himself in the mirror. He knew that there were plenty of diseases he could have gotten, not to mention simple infection since he was probably torn up inside. He shuddered.

_What happened to him?_

Sam's hands had been bloody. He'd checked the gun, but it hadn't been used. There was about $500 stuffed unceremoniously into his purse though. Sam wondered whether that was how much the guy considered his ass worth, or if Sam had just robbed his wallet afterwards. He didn't particularly favor either option. He dressed slowly in normal clothes, debating what to do. In the end, the decision was made when his eyes landed on the piece of paper that Lexy had written for him. He picked up the phone and dialed her.

"Mmmm, 'lo?"

"Hey Lexy. It's um, Sam."

"Sam! Are you okay?"

Sam hadn't been aware that he was so broken up mentally until he heard her kind voice asking. He burst into tears, sobbing into the receiver.

"Lexy, last night and I don't know what happened and there was this guy and, I don't know, he bought me a drink but I said I just wanted soda and then I was bleeding and oh god it hurts so much and-"

"Ssshhh Honey. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay. What's your address? Lemme come over and take care of you okay? Is your family home?"

"N-n-no, they're out for another w-w-week or so."

"Okay, tell me how to get to your house Sweetheart."

_Lexy,_ Sam decided later, _was definitely an angel_. She had come over, wrapped him up in warm blankets and rocked him on the couch, in her lap, whispering comforting things to him until she managed to pry out what Sam remembered. She had made some soup and forced him to eat it and drink lots of water, even though all he wanted to do was vomit forever. He was a little shy at first, but when she'd wanted to rub his back, she hadn't taken no for an answer and they ended up snuggled together on the couch, watching some mindless T.V.

"You know, Sam, we ought to have you checked out by a professional...there's only so much I can do..." Lexy's voice was gentle and soothing.

Sam shivered violently. He knew it was only a matter of time before she forced him to seek help. "I don't know if I can."

Lexy bit her lip in thought, gazing unseeingly at the sitcom characters prompting the laugh track. "There is a place...it's called Planned Parenthood, you heard of it?"

Sam stared at her, his eyebrows drawn together. "It's like for abortions right?"

"Not just that, there are other things, things for guys too. They can test you for just about every STD on the planet, it's quick, it's simple, and in the state of California you're not required to tell your parents."

"At all?"

"Nope. Now, I'll be with you and can sign as an 'acting guardian' if they need me to, but I'm almost positive that won't be the case."

It was Sam's turn to chew his lip, thinking it over.

"I guess..." He said slowly. Lexy smiled at him and glanced at her phone.

"Well, it's still open, we can head over now, is that okay?"

Sam nodded, remembering that Lexy had a life and things to do and she was taking time out of her day to be here to support, comfort, and help him and that he would be very selfish in making her stay around longer than she needed to. He nodded again and stood, shakily. She helped him out to the car, taking care to keep at least one blanket wrapped around him. She had been holding him for so long that the blanket smelled like her perfume. It was quite relaxing.

The drive wasn't long, maybe a half an hour. Sam continued to squirm in his seat, rear still in pain from the night before. Lexy saw and quickly took pity on him, giving him a sweatshirt to put on and having him bunch up the blanket to sit on. She turned up the music for distraction and started singing along.

"Purple rain, purple rain..."

Sam smiled and nestled back against the seat, eyes drifting closed to Prince and Lexy's duet. He was startled awake when the car pulled in to park and Lexy gently shook his arm.

"Hey there. We're here."

There were luckily no protestors outside of this one, or maybe it was too hot out in the summer for them to be picketing, whatever reason, Lexy was silently grateful because that was one more thing she did not need to deal with. She coaxed Sam through the sliding doors and sat him down on one of the chairs in the waiting room. She explained the situation quickly to the girl at the desk, requesting testing for STDs and there just happened to be a doctor free in twenty minutes, if they were willing to wait? Lexy nodded and took the clipboard, pen, and survey over to Sam to fill out, after assuring him medical insurance wasn't a factor.

Sam was mortified. He felt like the girl at the front desk (the only other person in the lobby area) was just staring at him, judging him. He had forgotten to bring any money with him, though privately he wasn't altogether sure Lexy would have even let him pay, but it would have been courteous at least to try. _He was earning money for a reason._ Lexy was debating on how lucky they could be in one day when he handed her the clipboard, stating that he was done. She had her fingers crossed that Dr. Peters would be working. She remembered her father saying something about Dr. Peters retiring from the military and that he didn't want to stay on their hospital staff as a civilian. She was pretty sure this was the clinic he'd transferred to. He'd said she could always bring her friends in and he'd treat them for free and he wouldn't tell her father. She trusted him deeply, having had to ask for his professional help before. No sooner had she handed the clipboard to the front desk girl, than a kindly older man in a doctor's coat opened the door and peeked around. Lexy smoothered a sigh of relief.

"Are you the young sir needing some tests run?"

Sam looked around, even though there was still no one there, flushing bright red. Lexy nodded for him and led him back.

"Come sit up here for the nice doctor okay?"

"I'm not three."

"Well then act your age and have a seat."

The doctor chuckled at their interaction. He turned to Sam to explain the procedure. Firstly, his name was Dr. Peters and he'd be taking care of him today. They would be taking a small amount of blood, some saliva, and some semen to run for anything that might look amiss. Sam stayed tomato red.

"He also needs a surface rectum exam." Lexy piped up from her chair.

The doctor looked gravely from Lexy to Sam. He looked back at Lexy, a question in his eyes and whatever he saw in her face answered it because for a moment, he looked infinitely sad. Sam wondered at the shared glance between Lexy and the doctor. _Did they know each other? Had she been here before? She knew the way and it would maybe go towards explaining why she was so sympathetic to him. _Then the doctor brightened.

"Now, young man, let's have that saliva first, shall we?"

Sam opened him mouth obediently and tried not to choke on the swab hitting the back of his throat. The doctor prodded his arm and took a very small sample of blood and gave him his choice of band-aids. Sam chose the batman one, grinning as the doctor stuck it on. Continuing in his cheerful manner, he asked Sam to undress, so that the semen could be collected and the exam conducted.

"Would you like your lady friend to stay or not?"

Lexy thanked the medical gods for Dr. Peters not revealing their prior relationship. Truth be told, Sam was past the point of modesty and really would have loved for Lexy to stay. He shook his head though and stared at the floor. She stood up, came over, and rested a small hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be right outside, and he's gonna take real good care of you. Just call me once your clothes are back on and I'll take you home, okay?"

Sam nodded miserably. Lexy leaned close.

"Maybe we can stop for ice cream."

He looked up as she winked at him and closed the door behind her. The doctor looked at him kindly.

"Now son, I'm going to need a semen sample. If it makes you more comfortable, I'll turn my back, but you need to make sure at least some of it gets in this cup, okay?"

Sam nodded silently, continuing to stare at the floor. The doctor patted him quickly on the shoulder, handed Sam a plastic container with the lid removed, and sat down at a desk behind the bed where Sam was perched. He heard the doctor shuffle around a bit and a glance over his shoulder confirmed that the doctor was doing paper work. Sam relaxed minutely. He steeled himself and quickly undid his belt and jeans, letting himself out of his boxers, but not actually taking any of his clothes off. He wasn't ready to be that exposed, and it was still pretty awkward. Especially since Sam knew from experience that he wasn't exactly quiet.

He licked his hand and started to slowly run his palm over his dick. He hadn't gotten off since yesterday morning (which for him was, at that point, a rather long stretch) so it didn't take much for him to harden. He desperately wanted to close his eyes, but he needed to see to make sure it all ended up in the cup, so his eyes fell to half-mast. He speeded his hand up slightly, taking time to run a thumb over the head and dip a fingernail into the slit. He shivered pleasantly, feeling warmth worm its way through his stomach. Sam had a few different jacking off fantasies, most of which involved Dean in some way or another, but one that was a sure fire way to get him off quickly was an actual memory, not a fantasy at all.

**It hadn't been an otherwise memorable day. Sam had just gotten in the shower, only to notice the lack of soap. He jumped out and quickly retrieved it and opened the door a bit to yell at Dean for using it all up and not even having the courtesy to replace it. Except when he'd opened the door, Dean had been preoccupied.**

**Dean was rubbing himself through his jeans, switching between running his fingers up and down the length and cupping his balls. His eyes were closed and his breath was hitching. Sam stood staring, arguing hastily with himself to get back in the damn shower already! He's going to come any minute and notice you standing like a slack-jawed yokel! But, wouldn't it be hot to watch him fall apart? He was already shuddering; he had to be close. In the end, Sam's rational mind won and he hopped back into the shower and proceeded to merely lay a hand on his balls before he was shooting all over the shower walls. It had taken him awhile to compose himself after that.**

Just as Sam was getting to that part his breath was hitching and he was making these little noises. He was torn between the impulse to shove his fist in his mouth to muffle the sounds and keeping his left hand where it was: balancing the cup on his legs and rubbing gently around his hole; a technique that never failed to make him shoot fast. Before he knew what had hit him, he was gasping and coming, trying hard to focus on getting it all in the cup. He mostly managed, and what he didn't, he quickly mopped up with his loose cotton boxers, smiley-face patterned today, before doing up his jeans and belt. After closing the lid on the cup with a sharp click, the doctor came back over. Sam was very flushed and staring intently at the ground. The doctor kindly took the cup and opened the door.

Lexy was standing outside, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, arms crossed and a look on her face that was the offspring of worry and the feeling of anger at being useless. Sam's heart skipped a beat as she focused her eyes on him and he noticed again how much she reminded him of Dean. He felt safe.

"C'mon! Let's get us some Ben & Jerry's huh?"

Sam smiled and nodded eagerly, jumping down from the patient bed. He looked hesitantly at the doctor.

"Um, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to call my home..."

Lexy interrupted. "I gave him my number. I'm sure there won't be any problems, but just in case."

Sam flashed her a grateful look and then carefully looked the doctor in the eyes. "Thank you."

He said it very softly, but clearly and then he went back to staring at the floor. The doctor nodded gravely and gestured at them, pointing towards the door. They took their cue and left, hopping back in Lexy's car.

"Let's blow this joint!"

After some deliberation, Mint Chip Delight won out and Sam happily devoured his and half of Lexy's as well. He was grinning when she finally dropped him at home and, after she'd triple checked that he was okay, she left. Just as Sam was closing the door behind him, the phone was ringing.

_Oh. Shit._

It had been half an hour. _Goddamn._ He bolted over and picked up the phone, breathless as he asked "Hello?"

"SAMMY! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?"

Sam cringed and held the receiver a little farther from his ear. He knew Dean had been worried, but he needed to preserve his eardrums. Dean ranted for a good couple of minutes and when he paused to catch his breath, Sam rushed in.

"Dean, please. I'm really really sorry. I just... I lost track of time and I just got home and I won't do it again, I promise!"

Dean heard the plaintive tone and the anger faded. He sighed and Sam could imagine the way Dean was pinching the bridge of his nose and scrubbing his face.

"What were you doing?"

_Well shit._ He was inclined to say the library, but it was Sunday and because everyone in this town was so God fearing, the library, and most places actually, were closed on Sunday. He could say taking a walk, but he would have been aware of the time. He couldn't say sleeping or reading because he would have heard the phone, and besides, he'd already confessed that he'd only just gotten home. He chewed his lip trying to think.

"Sam?"

"I was um... out."

"Out where?" Before, Dean's tone had been weary and just happy that Sam had finally picked up the phone, but now it was creeping along the edge of suspicion.

"I went for a drive."

"You're too young to drive."

"I wasn't driving."

"Who was?"

"A friend." Sam was trying his best to be vague, but Dean wasn't having any of it.

"Sam. You'd better be straight with me right now," Dean lowered his voice. "Don't make me get Dad on the phone here."

Sam knew it was an empty threat, but he complied nonetheless. "Fine. I went to the mall a few days ago and I met Lexy and I was just hanging out with her today and I lost track of time and that's why I just got home."

"This Lexy has a car?"

"She's in college. Like 19 or something." _Older than you are,_ Sam thought, but wisely didn't say. Dean started laughing. Sam was bewildered.

"Christ Sammy! You're seducing college girls? Damn. Should I be jealous? What's your secret dude?"

Sam rolled his eyes hugely. "It's not like that at all. She's just my friend."

"Mmmmm. What's she look like?"

"You know what? No. We're not talking about Lexy. I'm sorry I didn't pick up the phone before, I won't do it again. I'm pretty tired though."

For once, Dean actually took the hint and stopped teasing him. "Yeah okay, Sammy. Get some rest. And eat something healthy for dinner, you hear? Dad didn't leave you all that money for candy and cookies!"

"I know, I know."

"I'm gonna talk to Dad about actually paying for service for the new-fangled mobile phones you weaseled out of him. That way you don't have to be home and you can take your, ah, drives more. They were pretty expensive you know."

"Yeah, okay. Probably a good idea anyway." Sam pointedly ignored the jibe about drives.

"I'm gonna suggest he take back mine. He usually leaves both of us and I'm either with you or him at all times so I don't really need one, you know?"

Sam bit his lip. He hated how Dean was always so self-sacrificing. Especially when it came to his family. Sam felt a pang of selfishness settle in his gut. He wished Dean wouldn't do things like this. Didn't he know that Sam loved him no matter what? Before he had a chance to voice any of his concerns, he heard his father in the background, calling for Dean to come help him with something.

"Night Sammy."

"Night Dean."

Sam hung up with a sigh. _He had to be more careful. They were only going to be gone another week or so, but still. Better to be safe than sorry._ And he hated making Dean worry about him._ Except this time he was right to worry,_ a small voice reminded him. Sam pushed it away, reassuring himself that _probably nothing was wrong and everything would turn out fine._ He certainly had a lot of money anyway. He didn't think he'd be able to sneak out at night once his dad and Dean got back, so he may as well just earn some more and call it a day.

Sam made a sturgeon face. And reconsidered.

Dean did typically go out on Friday or Saturday nights. That's when he hooked up with his 'girls'. Sam's stomach did a nasty flip-flop at the thought. Those nights, his father often took the opportunity to pass out drunk. Usually Sam waited up for Dean, watching late night T.V. if there was anything on and sometimes when they wasn't. But Dean rarely, if ever, came home before 4am. Sam was sure he'd be able to go out, work a bit, get back, and shower before 1 or 2am. Dean would never be the wiser. Plus, it would keep up the influx of cash.

The little warning voice piped up again. _At some point, even if Dad doesn't notice, Dean is gonna wonder where the money is coming from. You can only 'miraculously find money on the ground', 'find an abandoned wallet' or steal so much before it begins to look suspicious._ Sam was never very good at hiding anything from Dean, much less something as big as this.

On the other hand, if Dad was going to make a habit of bringing Dean on hunts and leaving Sam on his lonesome, he could spend the money then. He'd figure something out. He always has. As Sam was thinking, he'd been pacing the small living space when he found Lexy's card. He picked it up and looked at it again, remembering that she had said something about a safer place. Sam had been quite wary of going back to the same bar. There was an address and a note underneath, saying which bus to take where, and to tell the woman in charge, Sunshine, that he was 16. Sam supposed it couldn't hurt to just take a look around the place, maybe see if it was a safer place. Or if they'd even let him work there, because as soon as Dean and Dad got home his availability was going to become sporadic.

Sam didn't want to call Lexy again so late, so he consulted the internet. Turns out, there was a bus stop within walking distance of their little house and if he took the C-line, it'd take him to the next city over; the cities were very small and very close together in this area. Also, by a stroke of luck, on weekends, (Thursday through Sunday evening), the buses ran very late indeed. Even until 2:45am, the last bus leaving to get back to his bus stop. The more Sam thought it over, the more it seemed like a reasonable idea. He glanced at the clock. He could go tonight, he supposed. He cracked his neck, winced at the soreness penetrating his body and decided to go another night.


	7. Bright Lights, Big City

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

Chapter beta'd by the wonderful Miss Tam.

A/N: _Italics_ are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other fonts represent characters' writing.

It turned out to be a relatively hard-to-find place and it was only because the bus driver had perved on him that he'd been able to find the place at all. Upon arriving, he was accosted at the door by a tiny Asian woman. Sam hesitated briefly, before deciding that putting on an accent wouldn't work in front of this woman. She had a shrewd glare.

"Who're you?"

"Um, my name is Samantha. I was referred here by a friend. I'd like to work..."

"How old are you? Like ten?"

Sam bristled and stood up taller. "I'm sixteen."

"You're a liar is what you are."

Sam stood his ground and she contemplated him for a few moments before she was waving him in.

The place was called Bangkok, so Sam supposed the woman was Thai. It was actually a lot bigger than it had appeared from the outside, twisting and turning down dimly lit hallways. The decor was an odd mixture of Asian simplicity, European decadence, and chess.

Everything, from the bar to the floor, was tiled like a chess-board and the seats and couches around were cleverly made to resemble different chess pieces. Sam was so taken with the place that he hadn't realized that Sunshine had stopped walking and bumped right into her. She turned around and glared at him.

"Where's your head at?"

"S-s-sorry Ma'am. I was just looking around. It's very beautiful." Sam gestured awkwardly at their surroundings. Sunshine puffed out her chest in pride.

"Well. You mentioned something about work?"

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yes. Except, it would have to only be on Friday and Saturday nights...and sometimes I may not be able to come in ... and I'll probably be leaving town at the end of this summer...and-"

Sunshine held up her hand and Sam abruptly shut his glossy mouth. "So, it's a temp job."

Sam nodded again. Sunshine pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, giving off a great air of authority.

"Here's the terms: Come in when you can. Try to call ahead if you can't make it at all one weekend. Let me know when you're leaving for good. Since you're going to be off the books, we'll split the pay 60/40-" Sam opened his mouth to protest, but she barreled on.

"Yes yes, you'll get the 60%. And no more than that. The girls here are referred to as 'pearls'. The hallway on the left is for 'angels', girls who are just available for simple things and fairly normal sex. The right hallway is for 'devils', girls who are willing to engage in more...shall I say, interesting things? You will report to me when you come in and when you leave. My office is there-"

She pointed to an ornate door in the back right corner. "And if you hear something referred to as 'the temple' it means the bar there. Figure out what you're comfortable with. If you go down the hallway, each door will have a list of acceptable and expected behaviors inside the room, so both you and client know exactly what you're in for. When you've found doors that suit you, write down the numbers on this card,"

She handed him a small blue card. "And if you're approached by a client, make sure he sees and reads the card first. If the client agrees, bring him or her to the temple and have them pay. Always remember: pay first. And don't let them try and get you to accept a credit card. That always leads to unnecessary problems. Got all that?"

Sam's head was reeling, but he managed to nod. Sunshine's eyes softened. "Let me measure you for a uniform and then you can go look around okay?"

Sam followed her into her office and waited as she closed the door.

"Strip."

Sam blinked and then turned bright red. He began stuttering excuses. Sunshine was having none of it.

"Either you strip or I'll strip you."

Sam cringed as he carefully unstrapped and stepped out of his wedge-heels, and began peeling off layers of clothes. Because he'd never found a bra that managed to look right on his chest, and he didn't feel like faking it anyways, he was down to just panties before long. Sunshine looked him up and down, but in a very detached and clinical way. Sam felt self-conscious and had to resist an overwhelming urge to cross his arms over his chest. A shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with cold in the smoky warmth of the room.

Sunshine nodded and turned abruptly, pulling a tape measure out of seemingly nowhere. She whipped it around. Sam felt dizzy trying to follow all the movements and eventually stopped. When she instructed him to lift a leg, he did so, though he must have looked more puzzled than before because she answered like he'd asked.

"We wear special socks. They have soles, but aren't really meant for extended outdoor wear. It's just a little nicer than sticky bare feet slapping the ground."

Sam made a sturgeon face and guessed it must be true. After the measurements had been taken and written down, he was dressed and hauled down a staircase into a basement. It had obviously been converted into a cross between storage, a giant locker/dressing room, and a giant closet. Sam blinked a few times. There were a couple of people, one was smearing lipstick on, face way too close to the mirror. One, who was definitely a man, was rearranging his wig, and another was hurriedly pulling on a complicated lingerie set. Sam flushed and looked away. Sunshine chuckled.

"Well you'd better get used to that, Sugar."

"Samantha."

Sunshine raised a delicately well-maintained eyebrow. "Well okay then, Samantha. Though, you'd better come up with some other name to tell your clients. Just in case something goes awry, you don't need them being able to find you. Don't be too shocked. Men and women work here and both tend to dress provocatively. You do remember where you are?"

Sam simply nodded, ashamed of his embarrassment. He was quickly shown around, and informed of the community sharing policy which was simply:

"Use it. Put it back where you found it. If you use it up, write it down on this notepad. Nothing leaves this building except your uniform if you wish. If you leave it in this basket, it'll be taken to the wash. Each girl has an individual outfit, so we'll know it's yours and you will have the nominal fee taken out of your pay."

Sam nodded.

"Now then, a couple more things and I'll let you go. Firstly, besides your feet obviously, your measurements are not atypical. We have a few things that ought to fit you fine for you to choose from."

Sam was lead to the first wardrobe, labeled 0 at the top. He glanced at Sunshine, a question on his lips.

"Yeah, it's by size, or my version of Thai sizes anyway. You're lucky, in a way. Most people who work here are fully grown adults and so no one actually wears this size. Go ahead, open it."

Sam did so, ignoring the jab about his stature, and was momentarily stunned. The closet wasn't packed. He supposed that was because it wasn't a common size. The colors were what got him though; creamy ivories on satiny golds, pungent oranges, sour greens, and warm yellows. He knew which one he wanted almost immediately. It was fancy, there was no denying it. Sam had never thought of himself as someone who liked to dress anything but casual, but he allowed himself this small luxury, considering he wouldn't spend very much time actually wearing it.

It was bright vermillion, in the traditional Thai style of one bare shoulder and a sheer wrap of a sleeve thrown carelessly over the left and then hanging down in the back. The pattern on it was one of multicolored peacocks, with many deep green feathers, spiraling down from the tails. There was a thick gold belt to give the impression that he had some curve to his hips, and a strip of fabric, the same red, embroidered with a brocade of delicately pink flowers flowing down. _Wow._ He'd never fallen in love with an article of clothing before, but he knew that's what had happened. So did Sunshine.

"Excellent choice."

Before Sam knew what was what, she had effectively stripped him and before he could yelp in protest, a flurry of material swept around him. He held out his arms and let her adjust the dress on him, tucking the strip into the belt that settled comfortably. She pulled out two small hairpins, a red sun with golden spiked tips and pushed back his bangs, clipping them gently into place. She stepped back to survey her work, rubbing her thumb against her mouth. Sam bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably: he hated scrutiny.

"I think you'll do."


	8. Bitter Sweet

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

Beta'd by the lovely Miss Tam!

A/N: _Italics_ are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other fonts represent characters' writing.

Sam opted to leave the outfit and pins at Bangkok. He had wanted to start that night, but Sunshine had dismissed him with a wave of her ring-laden hand and said to come back tomorrow. Sam had hopped on the bus home and fallen into a dreamless sleep as soon as he hit the mattress.

It ended up being a damn good thing that Sam partially woke up later, to remove his make-up and change into pajamas, hiding his girl clothes. He also made a mental note to try and talk to Lexy tomorrow and tell her what was going on. Then he fell back into the black abyss.

Somewhere around 11am, John and Dean arrived home. Sam was passed out on top of his bed, face mashed into the pillow, and Dean chuckled at the sight. John was too tired to notice much. He dumped their things inside, opened the fridge, found the beer almost instinctually and took a few bottles to the couch. Dean was pretty exhausted himself, but grinned as he snuck up on a soundly sleeping Sammy. He pounced, tackling Sam and pinning his arms and legs beneath his superior weight.

"Mumph!"

Sam began sleepily struggling, but it was far too late. He was thoroughly pinned and there wasn't anything to be done.

"Damn Sammy. You must have been pretty knocked out. Me'n Dad have been crashing around like elephants out there and you still didn't hear me coming?"

Actually, Sam had known that Dean was there a few moments before he'd been slammed bodily into the old mattress. His body hadn't prompted him to wake up faster because he'd recognized the lack of threat. That didn't stop him from continuing to squirm and whine.

"Deeeeeeeeeean! Lemme up!"

"Say Dean is way cooler than I'll ever be."

"Hell no!"

"Then get comfy."

Dean scooted himself so he was sitting on the backs of Sam's upper thighs. He'd pinned Sam's arms by his sides so Sam didn't even have Dean leaning forward to use against him and shift his weight. Sam harumphed.

"Say it."

"No."

Sam was still pretty tired and was annoyed at being awoken so rudely. That, plus his enormously giddy relief at Dean being back, and, even more, Dean touching him. He couldn't be expected to account for his actions **all** the time.

He began to build up some momentum rocking. Dean had noticed it right off and leaned a little harder down on Sam's arms, not quite allowing himself to be pitched forward, but not sitting back, relaxed. Sam tried to move his arms in order to get Dean to lean in. Just. A. Little. More.

There.

Sam hitched his hips back and up, curving his spine and pressing his stomach into the mattress. Until about a year ago, Sam had never understood why this was such an effective maneuver. It took a bit of back muscle and spinal flexibility, but for some reason it was a surefire way to get Dean off of him in record time. He'd figured it was just Dean being weird. Now he knew better.

Dean had promptly frozen so Sam did it again, this time not just thrusting his butt out and into Dean's crotch, but sort of rubbing up and down in little movements. Sam was aware that he was playing dirty, but he didn't care. After all, both he and Dean were teenagers: perpetually horny. Sam didn't really count Dean getting hard when he pulled this, the same way they both studiously ignored each other's morning wood when they were forced to share a bed and occasionally during wrestling or tickle fights. It was just something that happened, par for the course.

This time was a little different though. Usually, only a couple of seconds were needed for Dean to lean back and wrestle him into a headlock and give him a noogie, or some equally embarrassing thing. This time though, Dean was still there, not moving. Sam continued to repeat the motion, figuring Dean was maybe a little slow on the uptake this morning. And did Sam imagine it or _did Dean sort of lean into the movement?_ Sam heard Dean's breath hitch a little and curved his ass up more so that it was fully rubbing into Dean's groin.

Dean fluttered his ridiculously long eyelashes and bent forward a little more at the waist, his grip tightening and relaxing on Sam's wrists in time with their rocking. Sam's eyebrows shot into his hair. Dean must seriously not have gotten laid in too long. At the realization that, _yes, Dean was actually responding in kind,_ the blood rushed south of Sam's belt line so fast that he felt a little light-headed. He began alternating between humping the bed and pushing himself back against Dean.

He started getting creative, swiveling his hips as he tried to find the right spot. His pajamas were thin and he'd forgotten to put on boxers, so really Dean's denim clad erection was nestled quick snugly in between Sam's cheeks, sliding up and down. Sam heard Dean start to pant quietly and that just made him come completely undone. He'd been trying to hold it in, but he could just feel that Dean was about to lose it and he was the one making Dean lose it, and his orgasm slammed into him, making him arch back even more. Sam pressed his face into the bed to muffle the small "Oh." that had escaped him. He heard a low growl behind him and felt the back of his pajama pants become damp as well.

As if Dean was suddenly shoved into overdrive, he leapt off Sam and took off at a sprint for the bathroom. Sam had rolled, reaching for Dean's hand. His fingers had barely brushed the back of Dean's wrist, but Dean had yanked it away like Sam's touch caused physical pain, not pausing in his rush. Sam blinked back the tears suddenly stinging his eyes. _Was Dean mad at him? Had he hurt him? Or done something terribly wrong?_

Sam sat up and scrubbed at his face and hair, not even caring about what he looked like. His pajama pants were navy, another hand-me-down from Dean, so the wet spots weren't even visible except for up close. He heard the shower running; hoped that if he wasn't in the room when Dean got out that his brother would just go to bed and get the sleep he desperately needed.

Sam stumbled out to the kitchen to look for something to eat. He figured that today not much was going to happen since John had to be even more exhausted than Dean. Sam figured wrong.

"Is your brother in the shower?"

Sam nodded, fishing around in the cupboard for some cereal. John sighed.

"Well, I just got an email from a contact about two or three days away. Said he needs some help with something, a nest of vamps I think. Anyways, when your brother is out, let him know about it, okay?"

Sam stood stock still for a moment.

"Sammy?"

"Are you serious?" Sam spun around, suddenly furious with his father. "You just got home!"

"Sam, evil never rests-"

"I don't give a shit about evil! How about thinking of something other than revenge for once? Thinking about any**one **else? You're so selfish!"

"You'll take a more civil tone, Son, and not use that kind of language." John Winchester's voice lowered in warning. He wasn't sure what had sparked this in his normally quiet, if sullen, son, but he was in no condition to indulge his seemingly constant need to fight. He was exhausted, dammit!

"I'll say whatever the fuck I want, Sir."

Sam's eyes were blazing. He exaggerated the pronunciation of fuck, making sure to emphasize each sound. Neither of them noticed Dean, standing open mouthed in the doorway, with a towel wrapped around his waist, fists clenched by his sides.

"Sammy."

"My name is Sam." He snarled. "And you should try to remember that. Maybe try and remember that you're a father, that you have a family, a couple of children, and not just a crusade!"

Before anything could be done, John had swung and hit Sam. Sam went flying into the kitchen counter and Dean came running over to restrain his father.

"Dad! Stop!"

Sam looked up from beneath his bangs, murderous. The voice that thundered out of him didn't sound human. "No, it's fine. I don't care. C'mon, Dad. Are you so tired of that dumb thing that killed Mom always escaping you that you need to beat up someone half your size? Is that what you need? Or maybe you should go out to a bar, huh? Not like you don't drink enough here. I bet if you found some cute blonde thing she'd pretend. She'd be your May-ree. I wonder what your Mary would think of you now, Sir?"

"Christo."

Sam's face twisted unpleasantly. Dean wanted to cry at the sight. "Sorry. I'm not possessed. Just Sam."

Dean shook himself into action and yanked ahold of Sam's shirt and pressed him bodily against the counter. Sam's bare skin was branded with the tile's contours as he was held there, his shirt having been hitched up enough to bare some of his lower back.

"Do. Not. Talk about her that way."

"She's dead, Dean. I doubt she cares."

Dean hauled Sam away and then slammed him back against the counter. Sam was completely filled with anger and betrayal. That Dean, _his Dean_, would always choose their father's side over Sam? Sam who had never abandoned him? Sam who was always trying to make Dean happy? He struggled weakly, not exactly trying to escape his hold.

"I said don't talk about her that way!"

"And I said-"

Before Sam could restate what he'd said, Dean had flipped Sam around, clipping his head with his elbow and losing his grip on Sam's shirt. Sam staggered back, head reeling, pink and green sparks bursting in his retinas. Dean looked stricken. Sam continued backing away until his back slammed against the couch and, _okay, that really hurt._ His spine was not used to taking this much of a beating. He could feel the bruises forming through the throbbing in his temple. He tasted bile in his throat. _This pain, it-it wasn't enough._ He deserved more. He'd pushed Dean hard enough that **Protect Sammy** was overruled. Dean started forward with his hand out.

"Sam, I didn't-"

Dean froze. Sam had tears leaking out of his eyes and running down his face, mixing with snot. That wasn't why though. Sam had slid down to the floor almost, was in between sitting and kneeling, trying to cradle his head with his shoulders. That wasn't why either. Dean was paralyzed by the fear he saw in Sam's eyes: Fear that had never been directed at him before. Dean couldn't even resent it, because he knew it was unconscious. Sam wasn't actually afraid of him. But he was right now because Dean _had. Just. Hurt. Him._ Dean felt nauseated, like his stomach was twisting in on itself. His one goal in life, **Protect Sammy**, and here, he'd just injured him more than Dad did. Speaking of whom…

John couldn't take it. He was tired and he didn't want to think about the fact that maybe some of what his youngest had said might be the truth, _but no one could ever replace you, Mary. I mean it, and I'll get that bastard for taking you away. Away from our boys. Away from me. _He fished out a bottle of whiskey and headed for his room, slamming and locking the door behind him. As soon as he'd done so, Sam propelled himself up and walked over to the kitchen counter, brushing past Dean as if he wasn't there. Dean turned slowly to continue watching him. Sam's motions were mechanic, his walking stilted. Dean wasn't entirely sure it was because of his injuries.

Sam had grabbed a steak knife and was proceeding to set it against his upper forearm. He'd gotten halfway through the deep cut in the few steps it had taken Dean to cross the kitchen and yank the knife away. His voice was gravelly and dangerous.

"Sam."

When Sam first looked up at him, when he took away the knife, Dean was truly afraid. There had been nothing there. His gaze had been blank. Sam blinked, looked down then back at him with tear rimmed eyes, filled with too many swirling emotions in their abyss. Dean thought he recognized guilt there. He also thought he saw longing, maybe a sense of peace, _but that didn't make any sense at all._

"Dean."

He'd whispered back, all the fight gone out of him. He took a step forward and buried his head under Dean's neck, encircling his waist with his arms, trembling. Dean chucked the knife into the sink and returned the hug, his guilt returning to claw at his insides. _How could Sam hug him so easily after he'd hurt him so badly? And what was with the cutting? Was that something that happened a lot and this was the first time Dean was present for it? Why did he do that? Was it his fault for not being a good enough role model for Sammy? Or was this the universe's twisted way of punishing Dean? Sammy's way?_

"C'mon, let's get you a few band-aids."

Sammy nodded mutely, trailing his brother. They fell into bed, drained, and entwined their bodies, as they passed into sleep. Dean resolved to talk to Sam about the self-mutilation. He'd seen scars on Sam, scars he didn't remember having been there. Maybe it made him a horrible brother for not noticing earlier, but _shit!_ _I was taking care of Dad too!_ He couldn't be in two places at once.

Dean also had to admit, he was a coward. He didn't want to have to face the fact that he wasn't enough for Sam, that there was something he'd done so horribly wrong to drive his baby brother to hurting himself. Maybe it was to get Dean's attention? Sam had never been so blatant before though, had tried to keep the scars covered. _Did he think he needed to punish himself out of some perverted loyalty to Dad? Or to me? Because he thinks I care more about Dad?_ Dean fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming about the day he'd have to choose between his father and Sam.


	9. The Pearl Girl

Beta'd by the amazing Miss Tam

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own characters, nothing is for profit, etc.

Italics and bold are for thoughts and memories, other fonts are for characters' writing.

In the end, they didn't sleep for as long as they had hoped. Dean woke up and chickened out of having the talk with Sam. _Maybe it was a one-time thing. Something thought up at the time to scare me or get me back for what I did. Those other scars could just be from school or him being clumsy. He is always tripping over thin air. _

It was evening upon Sam's awakening. He threw himself into the shower to wake himself up, after having rolled in the spot that still smelled like Dean in their bed for a while. In the kitchen, he managed to fix himself cereal without incident and saw a note waiting for him.

**Hey Sammy,**

**Dad's still passed out. Don't worry about him. I went out to relieve some stress**

**;)**

**Be back late. Don't wait up.**

**~ D**

Sam sighed over his cereal. He got himself dressed and down to the bus stop, figuring that since Dean got to go out tonight, he should be accorded the same rights. Bangkok was much busier tonight than it had been before and Sam wasted no time in hustling to the Temple, looking for Sunshine. She turned out to be in her office and nodded at him when he waved at her. He went downstairs to get changed and made up.

He found another note waiting in his hairpins. His extensions were slightly wavy from being wrapped around the hairpins, and lay gently on his shoulders, falling all the way to his shoulder blades. He tossed his head a few times, getting himself used to the weight before opening the note.

_Samantha,_

_Lexy called after you. I told her you were in my care. She asks that you call her when you have time, but not to worry._

_Sunshine_

_P.S. I've left a list by the bamboo mirror detailing the rooms and their specified conditions. Figure out what you want before you come upstairs. Be professional._

Sam made a face. He'd completely forgotten about his promise to call Lexy! _Hopefully she hadn't been too worried about him. Maybe later on tonight, if he could borrow Sunshine's phone or something._ He always left his phone off, for the most part anyway. He knew there were ways to track phones and to call back immediately, or something along those lines. The last thing Sam needed was for his father to be alerted to his activities. Besides Dad and Dean though, no one really called him, so Sam preferred to use other people's phones whenever he could.

He had also noticed on his way down, that the make-up on the girls wasn't nearly as varied as he'd expected. He watched a few and noticed they all put on the same thick white cream for their faces, red for their cheeks, and black for their eyebrows. The variation seemed to be subtle and mostly in the eyes. There was a large array of false eyelashes to choose from, jewels to be placed on the face, sparkling pots of gloss for lips, and many different shades of brush-on eyeliner. He figured that lining his eyes in red to match the dress would not only make him look like he'd been crying or had pink eye, but would also be overkill in the matching. After thinking for a moment, he opted for a combination of green and gold, hoping he would do it correctly.

He ventured to the bamboo mirror (the mirrors were all bordered by different materials) and found some suitable make up. Luckily, the chairs around the bamboo mirror were empty. It seemed like most of the women were upstairs already and the ones here were clustered, by themselves, ringed around the lacquer mirror, murmuring to each other. He finally decided on gold eyeliner and eyelashes, with three tiny green gems peppering the outside corner of each eye. Upon inspecting himself, Sam's beautifully plucked _(and wasn't that painful!)_ eyebrows rose delicately.

He looked nothing like himself. At all. He was ... really quite stunning. He wondered what his father would say and chuckled a little before a flash of terror at being discovered took over. He shuddered and adamantly did not think about what Dean would think of all this. Sam contemplated his fingernails.

They were very short. Sort of snagged. And jagged around the edges. Not particularly dirty, but not really elegant either. Nail polish would be very difficult to hide and didn't it take awhile to put on anyway? Sam chewed on his lip in thought, then grimaced as he had to reapply his gloss. As he was doing so, his eyes landed on the perfect solution. The glory of press-on nails. And they were glorious.

It was easy. They fitted fine, and the sticky nail basically attached like the false eyelashes. Also, they would come off easily with soap and water and there seemed to be many packets of them so he figured they had to be disposable. He made a sturgeon face as he admired his handiwork (no pun intended), and pulled on the socks that had been left for him beside a long note; what he assumed to be the list. Or menu. _Hmmm. List, definitely list._ No need to objectify himself; there'd be plenty of other people to do that for him.

He took a deep breath as he opened the list. His eyes were immediately drawn to the top, where it did in fact, say Menu. He swallowed, berating himself for being nervous over just reading a list.

_Warming Up (Blue Rooms)_

_Sensual Massage- Unwind and relax with a lotion or oil massage_

_Fashion Show- Your Lady will model sexy lingerie_

_Party Starter-Her hands and/or mouth will warm you up_

_Vibrate_

_Bubble Bath_

_Breast Massage-Either you massage the lady's breasts or she massages you with them_

_Pamper Party-For those who enjoy the subtleties of food (whipped cream, fruit, chocolate, honey, etc.)_

_Ready to begin (Red Rooms)_

_Missionary- Conventional sex, you on top_

_Lay Back- Your lady straddles you_

_Half and Half-Her mouth gets you hard, followed by intercourse_

_Reverse it-Opposite of above_

_On your knees-Mount her from behind_

_Hot and Cold French-The lady performs oral sex holding liquids of different temperature in her mouth_

_Drag Party-The man dresses as a lady and engages in girl on girl sex_

_Keep Going (Green Rooms)_

_Jacuzzi party-Relax in a private Jacuzzi, may invite a second lady_

_2 Girl Show-Watch 2 ladies together_

_2 Girl Party-Your needs fulfilled by two ladies together_

_Orgy Fantasy-Choose as many ladies as you like!_

_Movies-Theater with a large selection of Adult Films_

_Lady Loving-You give the lady oral sex_

_One Step Further (Yellow Rooms)_

_Note: For both Dominance and Bondage, as well as any other play that engages in potentially harmful behavior, both you and the lady will have a Safe Word which must be completely respected at all times. There are security cameras for this reason. You and your lady should be able to have an enjoyable, not frightening or painful, experience._

_Dominance-She's in charge or you are, the dominance will be determined by the lady_

_Extension-Includes overnight stay, breakfast in bed, multiple climaxes, champagne, Jacuzzi, etc._

_Bondage-She ties you up, or you tie her up. Same rules as Dominance._

_Pleasure for Two-Mutual oral sex_

_Around the World-oral, anal, and vaginal sex_

_Neapolitan- Four way with a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead_

_Fantasy Fetish-You tell us (Purple Room)_

_Cool Down (Orange Rooms)_

_Soft Massage_

_Refreshing Shower- with a lady to wash your back_

_Wow. Okay that was just...wow._ Sam closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in, held it, counted to five, and let it go slowly as he reigned in his emotions. His thoughts traveled quickly from the fact that his father would be proud that he'd finally managed to gather control of himself, to the fact that his father was still planning on taking Dean with him on another hunt, to Dean, and _DeanDeanDeanDean. Stop._ He repeated the breathing exercise a few more times until he could look at the list again without hyperventilating.

_Okay. Again. So the rooms seemed to be color coded, probably so that they knew which supplied to keep in what rooms. Sunshine had said...what about the rooms again? Left is for simple things and right is for more deviant things. And the card!_ Sam hurriedly fished the small blue card out from the purse he'd brought with him. It seemed like he needed to fill that out first. He snorted at how cheesy it looked. He supposed he ought to also come up with a different name ... one that wouldn't relate back to him in any way.

Hi my name is: Delilah

Sam snickered a little and then returned to the task.

My Hallway is: Left

My Colors are: Blue, Red, and Orange

And that was it. Sam was surprised, he'd expected to write down some sort of rating system. But, he guessed, it worked on a sliding scale. Silly as it seemed, he'd be inclined to charge less from someone he found attractive or more from someone who looked like they had money to blow (pun intended).

After adjusting himself once more, Sam slipped the card into the fold of his dress and headed up to the Temple Room. He wondered where everyone was until he remembered that it was fairly early in the evening; most of the girls probably didn't arrive until later. The few who were there were either drinking or walking around, tittering cutely whenever the guy standing next to them spoke. Sam realized he'd have to make those noises too and felt a slight gag coming on. His voice hadn't changed yet and he could easily pitch it up a little, make it sound more breathy like guys liked, so that wasn't even the problem.

The problem was that, in giving up the danger of being alone outside (not to mention the cold), he had inadvertently signed himself on to massive amounts of flirting. It didn't appear to be competitive; people simply walked in and approached whomever they liked, but Sam noticed a few men chatted with a woman and then drift away to another. So even if the girls weren't actively stealing clients from each other, Sam still had to make himself appealing enough for a client to first come to him, then to take him back to a room. Sam realized he'd have to learn the art of seduction and felt a little queasy at the thought.

Luckily for him, it was a Friday night. So, Sam hadn't even been reclining in what he thought _(maybe?)_ was a come-hither pose for more than twenty minutes, when a slightly inebriated man came swaggering in. He had this air about him like he owned the place and Sam couldn't help rolling his eyes at this man that strutted around the room like a rooster among hens. A rooster who promptly sat next to Sam.

"Well hey there, Sweetheart."

Sam gave him a small smile and shifted his body slightly, not quite facing the man entirely, but showing some interest. He was betting that playing hard to get would be effective in this situation, although, he'd only ever read about this sort of thing so he wasn't sure if he was doing it right or not. It seemed to work fine here though.

"So what's your name?"

Sam looked at the man briefly, then returned his gaze to the doorway. It was a good evening for a heavy Southern drawl. He murmured

"A gentleman ahlways gives his name fahst."

Inwardly, Sam cringed. _That was awful. Where had that even come from? Obviously this guy wasn't a gentleman by a long shot. He was in a brothel!_ The man grinned though, like Sam just told the world's best joke.

"Well, you can call me Mark sweet cheeks."

The man leaned closer and Sam thanked the lord for men who remembered to brush their teeth. Sam gave him a small smile again and this time, looked at the man full on.

"Delilah. Nahce to meet you, Mahk."

Sam's smile widened as he sounded out Mark a little slower than was strictly necessary, as if he were tasting the letters to see if they sat well with him. Mark leaned even closer. Sam reminded himself to never let Dean wear cologne if that was what it smelled like.

"Well hey there, Delilah. What say you and I find a pretty room back there and get to be a little more acquainted?"

Sam batted his eyelashes flirtatiously and uncrossed his ankles, setting his feet delicately on the floor.

"That may be fahn. What did you have in mahnd then?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. Mark surveyed him like a shark. Sam tried to maintain his smile. Mark glanced down to Sam's lips, swollen, shiny, slick, and dripping with gloss. Mark unconsciously licked his own lips.

"Think I'd like to get your pretty mouth all wrapped around my cock. Yank your head back by your hair and just fuck your face, smudge up that make-up and make a mess of you."

Sam's own dick started to swell at the idea and Sam cursed himself for being so young and constantly horny. But, the flush seemed to suit his face well and he smiled at Mark, standing smoothly in one movement and reaching his beautifully manicured hand down to Mark who grabbed it and pulled himself up. Sam started pulling him towards the hallway, but stopped him with a gentle hand against his chest before he walked any farther.

"Business fahst."

"Aw, Honey. Can't I pay you afterwards?"

Sam smiled, but shook his head. He tilted his face up towards the light and slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip.

"I'd sho lahke it if ya paid now, cause Ah'm a little impatient for you, after ya got me ahl wooked up talking lahke that tah me..."

Sam let the sentence trail off and turned his face down, looking up at Mark through his bangs, this time also allowing his natural embarrassment to appear as a flush of arousal. Sam trailed his fingernails ever so lightly down Mark's chest and he felt the skin shiver under his hand. Mark's eyes darkened in lust.

"Anything you want, Sugar. Here's $350. That enough?"

Sam leaned close to Mark's ear, letting his tongue flick out as he practically purred

"That's just fahn."

Sam walked backwards, pulling Mark, who was now so eager that he was in danger of stumbling from the blood rushing south too quickly, into the closest blue door. He swung Mark around so that he was pressed back against the wall. Sam slid down his body, mouthing his way through the clothing as he sank to his knees. He carefully kissed along Mark's still-covered length, reaching up to undo his belt simultaneously. Mark's hands fumbled clumsily, trying to assist in removing the offending pants. Sam carefully moved his hand and deftly slipped the button through the hole and pulled the pants and boxers down together. Mark groaned quietly.

"Oh baby. Baby baby baby. So good. Feels so good."

Sam carefully felt around for the small, pink, star shaped box he knew was somewhere on the floor. Upon finding it, he carefully opened a condom and offered it to Mark, who frowned.

"Awww we don't need that."

Sam simply gave his best imitation of a Mona Lisa smile and replied.

"Rules."

And gave Mark's cock a few licks before rolling the condom on slowly, sucking his way down after it. He was relieved to find that he hadn't picked a cherry flavored one. Those just looked vile. This was mostly plastic tasting with a hint of some citrus that he didn't want to examine too closely. Mark was moaning and threw his head back suddenly.

Sam felt a surge of pride and then exasperation at himself. _Yeah, fine, it was a handy skill to have, but he didn't need to go all feeling good about himself. He was still blowing this guy._ Sam cringed inwardly and started pulling his tongue into action. He could feel Mark's heartbeat pulsing. Sam, much to his chagrin, learned a little while ago, (it was an accident involving a popsicle stick and an inexhaustible case of the hiccups), that he didn't have a gag reflex. At all. Which certainly came in handy then. Mark wasn't huge, but he wasn't small and Sam soon felt his hands get a firm grip in his hair. Sam was fervently grateful for strong hair extensions.

"Okay sugar, just open up all pretty for me now. I'm just gonna mess you up a little bit."

Sam barely caught the last part, all exhaled under Mark's breath and so wasn't exactly prepared for Mark to totally claim control and literally fuck his face. Sam's throat flexed around his length and Mark moaned again, whispering sugar this, and sugar that. Sam wondered if Mark's experience was splenda-sorry splendid.

Sam smiled a little and looked up at Mark. His bangs had fallen sort of across his face and his lipstick and foundation was screwed all to Hell (he made a mental note to touch that up before leaving the room), and met Mark's heavy lidded eyes. Sam could feel that this was going to be over quite soon. He slipped a hand between his own legs to press the heel of his palm to his aching cock and let out a small moan of his own. Apparently, that was all Mark needed.

The aftermath was a little odd. Mark yanked him up and started kissing him, much to Sam's surprise and displeasure. Something about kissing seemed more... intimate. Romantic. Loving and gentle. Something you do with someone you truly care about and not just some under-aged whore that you're pretty sure lied to you about their name, the only piece of information you know about them. Just as Sam was beginning to squirm, Mark let him go. Sam was panting, his cheeks flushed. His cock throbbed achingly between his legs, but he made no move to relieve himself. Mark grinned and murmured something about being sure to recommend Delilah to his friends and he'd make sure, single-handedly if need be, that he'd keep her in business. Sam smiled graciously and waited until he was sure Mark had left before he crumpled to the floor.

He touched up his make-up, adjusted his hair pins firmly, and was about to reach down to grasp his weeping cock when he suddenly felt sick. He dropped his hand. Maybe it wasn't about dignity or self-respect anymore, but Sam just couldn't bring himself to jerk off on the floor of a random room when his mouth still tasted of latex and his knees were throbbing with the beginnings of bruises. _And wouldn't that be a funny thing to try and explain to Dean and Dad?_ Sam started laughing, a little hysterically, before he got a handle on himself. Maybe he ought to go home and call it a night. Nodding a little to himself, he struggled to stand, erection gone limp and forgotten, as he walked into Sunshine's office. He opened his mouth to talk but she cut him off.

"Have you phoned Lexy?"

_Oh shit._ He'd totally forgotten. He turned red, ashamed of his absent memory, but Sunshine just smiled at him and held out her phone. It was new and still shiny, the buttons not making a sound when pressed. Unfortunately, Sam just got her voicemail.

"I'm not gonna make it. Nope, I ain't gonna make it. I'm not gonna make it to the phone."

Sam smiled at her obnoxious singing voice; it sounded like a few other people were singing in tandem. He didn't bother to leave much of a message, just:

"It's Sam. I'll try you again later."

He handed back the phone and walked out of Sunshine's office to find something to drink. He found himself totally thirsty all of a sudden and had downed three cups of water before he took a break. The girl tending the bar grinned at him and he blushed again. Sam was wondering if his cheeks someday would just be red all the time when he heard a voice he'd know anywhere. The pit of his stomach dropped through the floor. He turned around slowly. Sure enough.

Dean was here.

A million questions ran through Sam's mind. _How did he know? Did he follow me? Did he see me with Mark? Did he follow me back too? Oh God, has he talked to Sunshine? Has he told her who I am? And if he didn't follow me here, how on earth did he find the place? Was he going to be pissed?_ Well, Sam already knew the answer to that last question. He felt like he was going to pass out. The stairway down was not too far away and Dean looked rather busy with some tall brunette girl who was giggling annoyingly. Sam thought maybe he could make it without attracting suspicion.

He made sure to drain the rest of his cup and set it down carefully on the napkin he'd been using as a coaster. He saw the bar girl pick it up out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly when she indicated with her eyes that she was willing to get him more water. Sam didn't take his eyes off Dean the entire time. Until he started walking. Sam wanted to run so much it physically hurt to restrain his leg muscles and he was so focused on that, he didn't hear the tell-tale steps come up beside him.

"Hey there, Beautiful."

Sam officially wanted to die. Right there. Right then. No questions asked.

"I can't say I've seen you around before."

_Yeah I wonder why that is?_ Sam thought, before realizing the implications. Dean had been here before. He didn't follow Sam and he wasn't here because he knew Sam was here. This is where he was going to 'relieve stress', as his note so eloquently put it. Sam mentally heaved a sigh of relief. His secret was still safe. But it wouldn't be for much longer if he kept standing here talking to Dean. He cleared his throat delicately.

"I'm new here. Just started actually."

Sam edged towards the staircase and for a second he thought Dean might just let him. His hopes were promptly crushed. Dean took a few steps and swung around, blocking the way down from Sam's view and standing in the way of the only appropriate escape. Sam was desperately trying to think of something, anything, to say that could deter Dean. He also realized belatedly that he hadn't even thought to fake much of an accent. He was going to go with Canadian, he decided quickly.

"Hey don't look so worried, everyone has to start somewhere."

Dean casually touched his arm and, while Sam was extremely proud of himself for not jumping back ten feet, he couldn't quite hide the flinch. Dean frowned. Sam smelled vodka on his breath as he leaned a little closer to murmur.

"What's wrong? I don't bite." Then Dean smiled. "Much."

Sam would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't mid-freak out.

"What's your name, Sweet?"

"Samantha. I go by Sammi though."

_Maybe the name would be enough._ No one in their right mind would want to call out their lay's name when it was the same as the loving nickname they gave their baby brother right? Sam didn't want to even investigate why that thought sent blood running straight to his dick. Dean was undeterred.

"I'm Dean."

_The jerk!_ He was standing there, smiling, looking totally at ease and Sam was losing his mind here! He bit his lip. Dean had said something about liking women with experience, girls who were already accustomed to things so he didn't have to worry about stopping every five seconds. Sam had no idea why he'd previously discarded this gem of knowledge. He fervently hoped it was still true.

"Um well. I'm not the-that experienced. At all. There's a bunch of oth-other people working here though. You'd probably have more fun with s-s-someone else."

Sam cursed himself for stuttering, but couldn't help it. He was praying that Dean's face would fall a little, he'd make some sort of excuse, and walk away. Sam severely underestimated his own attractiveness and failed to note, in the past, that most guys love it when a girl looks up shyly through her bangs at him. Sam had always hidden behind his hair; that was part of the reason why he was so glad that he had hair extensions to hide behind while whoring himself out. Dean's eyes widened, then darkened. Sam was confused.

"Well now, I don't think that's true at all."

Sam continued to be confused. Dean stepped closer and Sam backed up, swearing violently in his head as his back connected lightly with a wall. He was cornered. Dean stepped closer again and Sam had to tilt his head up to continue looking Dean in the eyes. Dean rested a hand on the wall, near enough to Sam's face that it felt like the final bar put into place on his enclosure, but far enough away that Sam wouldn't flip out and bolt or start screaming. Sam noted with some annoyance that his brother was treating him like a scared animal.

In his distraction, he failed to notice Dean's face getting closer until he had to go cross-eyed to see Dean's face. Their lips were millimeters away, Sam breathing in the air Dean was breathing out. And it felt so normal. So **right.** That scared Sam more than anything else so far.

"I don't mind helping you practice."

Now, Sam considered himself fairly well self-disciplined for a boy his age. But really? This was just plain going too far. How on earth was he supposed to just push Dean away? Especially because, in doing so, he'd arouse Dean's suspicions. He was in a brothel. The women and men here were paid to always say yes. So he couldn't say no, not really. At least, the justification was good enough for Sam at the time. His demeanor switched promptly.

"Well, I do need the practice after all."

If Dean was surprised at the shift, he didn't let it show.

"But maybe we could go...somewhere a little more private. Wouldn't want to be out here in case I do something wrong or get too carried away."

Sam practically purred. Now Dean was surprised, if his eyebrows were any indication. For a second, Sam worried that he'd said or done something that had given him away. He'd tried to keep up the innocent show, but no self-respecting brothel would hire a shy whore. Sam raised his arm and trailed his fingertips down Dean's chest slowly, lingering over his heart which he could feel was beating quite fast. Sam smiled and looked up at Dean again, leaving his hand where it was. Dean was panting slightly and his pupils were already a bit dilated. Dean pulled away enough to move his arm and let Sam go. He breathed.

"Lead on."

Sam pushed away from the wall gracefully and swept away, heading towards the closest unoccupied room. His heart felt like it was going to explode right through his ribcage. He could feel the warmth emanating from Dean as he followed, soaking into Sam's back. He shivered a little. He began to whisper to himself, trying to calm down.

"Okay, Dean's drunk. Or, pretty tipsy anyways. Which means he probably just wants to get sucked off and make out a little."

Sam considered.

_Maybe in the opposite order. Anyways, he'll just come and then leave and probably not remember much except that the woman he was with was quite excellent at her job. Just kidding. Not like he had any idea what he was doing, but if Mark was anything to go by, Sam wasn't sure that talent was overly important in this line of work._

Sam allowed himself a small smile as he pushed open a door, after peering to make sure the room wasn't in use. He didn't even note the color on the door, but there was nothing overly kinky in the room, so he figured he was doing fine. Sam, however, had not planned on being almost immediately tripped, hauled, pinned, and over all manhandled to the large bed in the middle of the room. Sam prayed Dean had remembered to close and lock the door.

"Eager, aren't we?"

Dean growled in response. Sam felt his dick give an interested twitch and then tried to tamp down his feelings. Among other things, such as the sky being blue and clowns being more terrifying than all of the wendigos in the world combined, Sam knew **Dean Liked Girls**. So, Dean would not care to find out that his latest 'female' companion was actually sporting a half erection at the time. Sam fighting his hormones was turning out to be a losing battle.

Dean had apparently tired of kissing Sam's neck and exposed collarbone and tried lips next. _Oh. Dean's mouth._ His lips were just as soft as Sam had always dreamed they would be. And, okay, that was sort of a creepy thought, but nothing about this situation was normal and it wasn't like Sam was in any position to complain either way.

Dean nipped at Sam's lips and Sam opened his mouth eagerly. Dean's tongue thrust in, licking around and tasting Sam from the inside out. Dean abruptly reared back. He was fully covering Sam with his body and so was staring down at him. Dean's eyes were narrowed and, even though he was hard enough to hammer nails, Sam felt a zing of fear course up and down his spine. _Had he given himself away? As either a boy or as Dean's brother? Had he done something wrong?_

Sam's mouth was already open; he was panting softly. He tried to catch his breath to ask what was the matter when Dean snarled at him.

"I thought you were 'inexperienced'?"

Sam just stared.

"You taste like another guy. Like his sweat and fucking lemon latex."

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times. He added brushing teeth to the top of the list of Things To Do Once Finished With A Client. Sam didn't even have a chance to answer before Dean was upon him again, hands skating up and down his sides, fingers bumping over his ribs through the soft material of Sam's dress, mouth sucking at his. Sam tried to tilt his head, tried to return the kiss, tried to tangle his tongue again with Dean's, but Dean obviously had other plans. One hand gripped Sam's face, hard, to keep him from moving. Sam wondered if Dean was always this possessive with the women he fucked or if it was a result of the drinking.

Dean nipped, licked, and sucked Sam's mouth in such rapid succession that Sam felt a little faint. He would pull away if Sam tried to respond in any way, baring his teeth, and, after a few attempts, Sam just lay there, pliant underneath. Dean started sucking on his earlobe and Sam gasped, shoving his hips up into Dean's unthinkingly. If Dean noticed him sporting wood, he made no sign of it. _Who knew his ears were so sensitive?_ Dean bit the curve of his ear and Sam moaned obscenely. Dean started whispering.

"Oh you like that huh? Like it when I bite you? When I hold you down? Remind you exactly who's in charge?"

Sam was incoherent.

"Gonna make sure you don't taste like nothing but you and me. Gonna mark you all mine."

Sam was finding he had a bit of a submission kink. _Maybe the other rooms wouldn't be so bad after all._ Then Dean's words registered through the haze of desire.

"Wait. Hold on."

Dean did not respond, only continued biting his way down Sam's neck, scraping his teeth along his exposed collarbone. Sam was panting heavily.

"No... marks... nothing... visible... please?"

At his last word, Dean stopped his ministrations, something having gotten through his lust-addled mind finally. But when he looked up at Sam he just grinned. Sam blinked. Dean leaned down to murmur again in Sam's ear.

"How about in places that aren't so visible, hmm?"

Sam choked a little as Dean started trying to paw off his clothes to get to Sam's chest. Sam grabbed his hands, struggling to think of some way to distract him. Something like panic must have fluttered through Sam's face because suddenly, Dean wasn't being so insistent. He was stroking the side of Sam's face gently.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Sam shook his head, forcing a small smile and hoping it wasn't a grimace.

"You didn't scare me, it's okay."

Dean's eyebrows continued to crease, like he didn't quite believe that, until Sam leaned up to resume kissing.

For the rest of the evening, they just made out languidly. Sam tried a couple of times to ask if there was something else he could do, feeling guilty for sort of cock blocking Dean, but Dean shook his head every time. Sam even went so far as to reach for Dean, scratching his fingers through the thin line of dark hair visible directly above Dean's jeans. When he tried to undo the jeans, however, Dean gently took his hand and wove his fingers into Sam's, effectively stopping the advance. Right before he left he whispered:

"See you soon, Sammi."

He tried to give Sam some money, but Sam refused resolutely. They had just kissed after all, worth nothing to most clients. Dean gave Sam a hard look, but nodded and pocketed the money. He continued to glance over his shoulder at Sam as he left.

Sam prayed after Dean left that he wouldn't come back here again, but his heart wasn't really in it. He did resolve to tell Dean next time, assuming there was a next time which did still seem pretty unlikely, that he's a guy. Even if the name thing didn't scare him off, Sam was sure that the penis thing would. He couldn't decide if he felt guiltier about wanting Dean to come back to be with him or wanting Dean to come back so he wouldn't be with someone else. Sam decided not to investigate too deeply.

Once he'd changed and was on his way back to the room, trying to keep himself awake on the bus ride, Sam decided to call Lexy. He'd dithered a bit; not wanting to call too late and interrupt something or wake her up. She'd mentioned in passing that she had both insomnia and a cruel cat that loved to disturb her sleep and he did not want to be another cause for her to be tired. In the end though, he'd bit his lip, and pulled out his phone. It was new.

His father, a few months back, had gotten the three of them Motorola 8900s, sleek black phones with a case that covered the numbers, to avoid accidental dialing, that flipped open, and a collapsible antennae. He'd been the one pressuring his father for them. _It was 1995 after all!_ The year prior, Sam had finally convinced both Dean and his father that a laptop would be a good investment. With it, Sam had saved them a lot of valuable time and had gotten to finally participate in the family business. In another act of guilt, John had somehow, (Sam didn't really want to know the specifics of it, thank you), gotten his hands on an Apple PowerBook 500, the highest rated performance laptop on the market. There had to be some kind of theft or bribery going on. Not like their father could ever afford such an expensive machine, especially when he didn't even really know how to operate it. Sam privately thought maybe Dean had a hand in that, but he wasn't sure.

Sam had started wearing a slightly larger purse, (actually it was a handbag and not just a purse), in order to accommodate the phone's girth, but he figured it was well worth it to have portable communication. He hadn't wanted to bring it before, had figured it would just be cumbersome, but since his, uh, violent incident, he carried it everywhere. He dialed Lexy and blew out a sigh through his nose. He waited a few rings before she picked up.

"Unf mmh, Sam?"

Sam cringed.

"Sorry Lexy! Were you sleeping?"

"Maybe?"

Sam quietly cursed. "I can call back maybe tomorrow or something..."

"No worries Sam. I was just calling to see how you're holding up? Sun taking good care of you?"

Sam smiled into the phone. "Yeah she is. She gave me this Oriental dress thing that's really pretty. I was sort of intimidated when I saw the list of everything offered there, but she said I could just do whatever I was comfortable with..."

"Yeah, don't do anything you don't want to. I don't care how much some schmuck is offering, you don't do anything you don't want, got it?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes Ma'am."

Lexy harumphed and then chuckled. "Intimidated? Clearly you're a little sheltered or something..."

Sam's eyes widened.

"I thought that Bangkok was a pretty open place. I mean, I didn't think there were places that had more, uh, options. There are places that have even **more**?"

Lexy laughed again. "Oh yes Sweetie. There are Dens, for people who are more, shall we say, primal? And want to dress as animals. Actually, a lot of the er, people who frequent Dens are not very human at all. Places that outright reject humans are called Lairs. Then, of course, there's Dungeons, for people who are a bit more, umm, adventurous. And free with either giving pain or receiving it in mass quantity, but want it in a safe environment. Though places like Bangkok offer those sort of options, generally the girls aren't up for too much pain..."

Sam was not prepared for the onslaught of information and promised to look all of it up. The more Lexy said, the more Sam was fairly sure she was just making some of this shit up, but you never know. _People have some fucked up fetishes,_ he supposed,_ and if enough people like the same thing, economics dictates that some enterprising soul will make a business out of it._ Exploitation, commercial style. Sam thought he could write a fairly decent paper on that. Then he noticed what she'd said.

"Wait, what did you say about Lairs?"

"Uh, that humans can't go in?"

Sam blinked. She knew there were other overtly sexual beings that walked the earth? _What?_

"Are you a hunter?"

He could hear the sigh in her voice. Sam's heart nearly stopped as the thought occurred that she might not be altogether human herself.

"Not exactly. I'm not a fan of killing, no matter the reason. I'm more of a...hunter for information. Hunters sometimes call to ask about things because I have accumulated quite the wealth of information."

So she worked with hunters, meaning even if she was a different species she hid it well and obviously wasn't evil. Sam then had the horrible thought that she might know his father. _What if they were friends? Had he ever revealed his last name to her? Or his father's name? Though, John is a pretty common name..._

"Aaaand, you're not listening anymore."

Sam jerked his head up.

"Wait, what?"

Lexy's laughter rang out. "Never mind."

Sam had a thought. "So, then, if all of those places have reputations or specialties, then does Bangkok have one?"

He could almost hear Lexy's surprise in the bright white noise.

"Uh, yeah. You must have seen or heard by now. Haven't you noticed?"

Sam blinked a few times.

"Noticed what?"

"Erm..., well most people go there when they want to be serviced by lady-boys."

"Wait. What?"

Lexy snickered. Sam's head was reeling. _Dean must not have known...but maybe he did? It seemed like it was sort of obvious to other people... and Dean had mentioned he'd been there before. Almost like he was practically a regular. So, he must have known. But, Dean was straight. He never mentioned liking guys or being with them. So that implied being straight. Or that he didn't want to talk about it with Sam, but that didn't seem right either. He loved discussing his sexual conquests. Didn't he?_

"Are there other places like Bangkok? Like, in other cities?"

"Oh sure. Almost every major city has one. In fact, many of them are run by a group of women from Thailand who worked as prostitutes themselves, many since childhood even, and there was a rash of men about thirty years ago in the States who started ordering these women over for an extended service. Quite a few managed to escape and, since they're not legal and honestly don't really exist, they set up places for people in their same line of business who wanted a safer environment to work from. They send much of their funds to relatives back home and to help stop child sex-trafficking."

Sam nodded, processing all of the information. Another time, he'd ask how Lexy had met Sun and how she'd come to know all of these things, but for now, he'd heard enough to keep him off balance for quite awhile.

"I wanted to ask about home life. Is everything...okay?"

Sam grit his teeth, his free hand clutching the rail attached to the seat in front of him with renewed intensity.

"I'm pretty sure my father is going off again on a hunt and taking my older brother Dean with him. **Again**."

There was silence for a minute.

"He leaves his 12 year old son alone for that long? And that often?"

Her tone was carefully neutral and a bit cooler than he'd ever heard from her. Sam had gotten to know a gentle and kind Lexy, a woman guided by her heart and not afraid to share her emotion. Sam clenched his jaw.

"It's a fairly recent development."

He could imagine her nodding, or maybe cocking her head to the side in empathy. He had been deathly afraid that she would ask who his father was or guess because John Winchester was a household name among hunters, according to Dean anyway, and he never made any secret of his sons. Luckily, she didn't seem to be focused on that.

"Well listen, Honey, you keep doing what you're doing and let me know when you're not working. We can go get some ice cream again or to the library or something. Just keep me updated when you can okay?"

Sam nodded, his throat closing up at her kindness, before he remembered she couldn't see him.

"Yeah."

"And you can give notes to Sun. She'll make sure I get them."

Sam had to wonder at her apparently close friendship with the other woman, apparently many years her senior. _Where on earth had they met?_

"'kay."

"G'nite Sam."

"Night."

In a universe of mostly less-than-perfect timing, the call ended exactly as Sam was standing up to get off the bus. Sneaking in turned out to be a nondescript affair: Dean was still out. Sam was out like a light within minutes of crawling into bed.


	10. Aspects of Love

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

Beta'd by Miss Tam!

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other colors represent characters' writing.

Sam was suspicious. He'd woken up around 10am, disoriented and confused. He'd been expecting to be woken up at some ungodly hour by Dean ruffling his hair and saying goodbye. Maybe his father giving him a look and a "Stay out of trouble son," or something like that. He certainly hadn't been prepared to be allowed to sleep in and the extra sleep was somehow muddling his brain.

Upon moving into the kitchen, however, he noticed his father sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper and sipping a large mug of coffee; looking for all the world like a normal father on a lazy Saturday morning. Sounds of sizzling and smacking filled the air, accompanying the smell of bacon crisping. Dean was humming something, that may or may not have been Hells Bells. He was swiftly going back and forth between a pan of bacon, jumping in its' grease; a pan of eggs scrambled with tomatoes in one half and green peppers in the other; and a small pot of something else. His father gave him a small smile and raised his eyebrows.

"You going to join me?"

Sam was bewildered, although his grogginess was quickly fading. He was tempted to mutter Christo, but he still wasn't awake enough to want to fight with his family; no matter how strangely they were behaving. Nevertheless, he sat down, gaping as Dean continued to hum and cook. Sam was still blinking stupidly a few minutes later when Dean handed him a mug. Sam just looked at it. Slowly, he raised it to his lips to inhale. It was hot chocolate. And it had been made with milk. _Someone was feeling guilty._

"It's kinda hot, so maybe wait a minute or two before gulping that down, ya hear?"

Sam nodded, still silent and half-asleep, trying to understand what was going on around him. His father flipped to the next page of the newspaper. Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. With both Dean and Dad acting so nice, Sam was positive that they were about to tell him something that he was **not** going to like. He'd experienced this before, although not for a long time. By now, now that he was old enough to really understand what was going on, their father usually just said whatever was on his mind and expected them to follow his order blindly. Sam was already beginning to have his doubts about the intelligence of that, but he kept them to himself. Mostly.

He waited for his drink to cool down and for the other shoe to drop. Instead, a plate heaped full of eggs and bacon was dropped in front of him, with a fork already buried in the yellowy goodness. Sam considered his breakfast. He shrugged internally, figuring that it'd be worth having a full stomach before the looming argument began. He ate excruciatingly slowly, savoring the home cooked meal.

Dean cooked for him, a lot actually, but usually it wasn't something with fresh milk or green peppers (something Sam adored and Dean had admitting to only putting up with for Sam's sake). More often than not, scrambled eggs came from cartons of pre-mixed liquid, had no milk whipped in with them, and bacon came only in diners. Dean came over and sat down with his own plate, frowning when he realized Sam had barely touched his food.

"Sam? Are you feeling okay?"

Dean asked, a touch uneasily. His face was torn between worry for Sam and... something else. Sam looked closer. An emotion kept flitting in and out of Dean's eyes as he glanced back and forth between Sam and Sam's plate. Dean swallowed carefully looking down at his own food with a touch of sadness, flicking his eyes back to his brother questioningly. _Oh._ He was waiting for Sam's approval.

Sam realized he was being kind of an ass and shoveled a big bite into his mouth quickly. It was still pretty hot and he burned his tongue as well as the back of his throat, but when he let out a few small noises of pleasure, it was worth it to see Dean relax and dig into his own meal. Sam coughed a few times and Dean abandoned his fork to quickly pour Sam a glass of water and bring it over. Sam sipped it slowly, waiting for his chest to stop spasming. Dean went back to eating, eyes trained on Sammy until he was sure that his brother was done coughing. If their father had witnessed the exchange, he made no comment on it. He waited until Sam and Dean were almost done before he started talking.

"Now, there is another hunt."

Sam's fork hit the table with an accusing clang and his suddenly watery eyes dropped to his lap. He knew this was coming, _so why did it still manage to upset him so much?_ His father, seemingly unaware of him, continued.

"However, I wasn't the only hunter to respond to the distress call. As such, and due to the nature of the hunt I am opting to have Dean stay here."

Sam ducked his head further to hide the crazy smile widening on his face. He felt like he probably looked pretty dopey. Dean seemed surprised. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth scrunched up. He probably wasn't even aware of how adorable he looked when he made his perplexed face and Sam sure as hell wasn't going to tell him, for fear he wouldn't do it anymore.

"But, uh, Dad, I thought that um...?"

Their father cocked his head at Dean and bit the very tip of his tongue, before swallowing the rest of the swig of coffee he'd just taken. Dean abruptly stopped speaking and Sam felt a strange combination of anger that Dean already knew about this and hadn't said anything, and satisfaction that his brother was hearing something new too. It seemed, lately, like all Sam ever did was sit and be told things that Dean had known about for quite some time and he was _sick of always being the last to know. Sometimes, it helped to see that his big brother could be out of the loop too._

"It turns out that there are a few nests which are connected. Like a network. We're going to need to lay down some plans and get a lot of issues sorted out before we can even do reconnaissance. I guess I just figured that you'd be bored by a bunch of old men arguing. Most of them won't even tolerate any hunters under 18 so you'd be doing some real menial tasks if you came. I've been dragging you around a lot lately. Even a Winchester needs some time to rest and recover."

John finished his coffee with a mighty gulp and a belch. He folded the newspaper and set it down on the table, looking straight at his sons, his teasing tone gone. Dean had gnashed his teeth and balled his hands into fists at the idea that he wasn't old enough or capable enough to work as a member of a team, but he calmed down to continue listening when he saw his father lose the joking manner.

"It's not just that though."

Sam looked up at the abrupt mood change. His father hesitated, although his sons weren't sure why. He gave a sideways glance to Sam.

"I'm not saying anything is going to happen, because I don't think it is, but one of the vamps got wind of some hunters on their trail. This happened before I joined the hunt, so they told me about it a couple of days ago. Vampires, in general, are not killers. They take some blood, an amount that isn't fatal, from their victims and usually abandon them. Sometimes at a hospital if they're feeling generous.

I wouldn't claim to be their biggest fan, but their leaders don't want the attention, so mostly they fly under the radar. Too often for my taste, a group will break off, yelling about their rights as a superior species and them being at the top of the food chain so why should they let the humans live? It's the same with turning, I've gathered. These rebel groups indiscriminately turn people. Whereas usually there are formal ceremonies and many rules, not the least of which being that the person has to want it. I guess basically, this group of bloodsuckers threatened the hunters' families; claiming any who even remotely helped extinguish their connected clan would be placing their loved ones in danger."

Sam was actually immensely impressed at his father's description. The fact of the matter was, a year ago, maybe even a few months ago, John would never have been able to make the distinction between true monsters and monsters of circumstance. He'd have wanted to kill them all. Sam wasn't sure if that meant his father was starting to choose his battles or if his knowledge and tolerance was expanding, however minutely. He wanted to believe the former. Dean rolled his eyes; not sure why his father was making such a big deal out of nothing. _He'd been worried just now!_

"Dad, all monsters say that."

His father nodded gravely. "And the ex-wife and 3 daughters of Jason Catraz, the one who first located them and sent out the distress call, were found dead yesterday afternoon. All of the blood had been drained from them, but it looks like the vamps then slashed them up, just for the hell of it. No one is even sure how they found out about him or why they did this, other than as a warning to stay out of their business. There was some serious torture there and no one's sure if they were already dead when it happened."

Dean paled and sat back heavily in his chair. He knew his father was implying rape, even if he didn't want to mention it out loud. _Don't need to scare Sammy after all. He's old enough to know what's going on and to learn to protect himself, but there's no reason to be throwing ideas like that around. He has nightmares as it is._ He nodded a few times, biting his lip before he said anything.

"Gotta look after Sammy."

John nodded his confirmation. "Now, I did just agree to help and, as of yet, I haven't actually done anything. It might be that the principle man who began all this will be the only one to suffer, sad as it may be. Just keep an eye on your brother, but I don't think you need to be especially worried,"

John grinned crookedly at his oldest.

"I think you can still go out at night, anyway."

Dean grinned back and Sam rolled his eyes, getting up to put his plate, fork, and mug in the sink. John sat back.

"I don't really have any idea how long this is going to take, so I'm going to leave you two with quite a bit of money. Make sure that you only spend it on groceries, you hear?"

"Yessir." They chorused. Dean got up and cleared his and John's places and proceeded to begin washing the dishes. Sam was so happy he could barely contain his glee. After a moment's consideration, he abandoned his normally grouchy and wary exterior _(ever since he hit eleven anyway, which was a long time ago, damnit!)_ to go hug his father tightly. John was surprised, but returned the hug gruffly. Before he let go, Sam whispered:

"Thanks Dad."

John nodded tersely, and Sam just about skipped off to his and Dean's room.


	11. Oh Brother!

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

Beta'd by Miss Tam!

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other colors represent characters' writing. I promise the next couple of chapters will be longer!

John left not too long after their conversation and Sam saw him off with Dean. Once he'd left, they settled down to watch some mindless T.V. and Dean reminded him that "Just because Dad is gone, doesn't mean I'm not still gonna make you practice shooting and fighting outside with me."

Sam just stuck his tongue out at him and settled back into the crook of Dean's arm to watch as Coyote was completely screwed over by ACME INC and Roadrunner for the millionth time. He was never clear on why this was considered 'classic children's television'. It all seemed very violent, peculiar, and really went against every rule of science Newton ever discovered. Not to mention the fact that no matter how often Coyote dived off of a cliff or Daffy was blown to smithereens, they always seemed to be back after the commercial break, angry, but otherwise unscathed. Sam tuned out and used the time for thinking.

He knew he'd have to be much more careful about his comings and goings, with Dean home. He already had a bit saved up, although not quite enough for the jacket yet, and he didn't have the foggiest clue how he'd explain it once he did. He supposed he'd have to play it by ear. It didn't seem practical to say he'd stolen it. Dean had always specified never to take anything of real value because those are the stores that not only hunt you down, but actually press charges and really, they did not need that kind of trouble. Sam would have to think on it some more later.

For now, he needed to do some planning for when he could get out and continue making that well-deserved money. _How sad is it when you can list your talents as researching, playing soccer, throwing knives accurately, and blowing men? _Sam shook his head. He ought to know better by now than to actually consider these things. Maybe he'd take up whiskey.

In any case, he could go out when Dean went out, but if Dean stayed in, well, _obviously he couldn't escape that easily._ Dean wasn't going to be leaving him alone too often. Sam scoffed at the thought that Dean was convinced he needed a baby-sitter. But then Sam had an idea. _Unless._

_Unless the baby-sitter didn't have to be Dean._ Sam could go out with Lexy, or she could come over, in the evenings. _As to whether she stayed once Dean had left or dropped Sam at Bangkok, well, Dean didn't need to know that._ Sam decided to bring it up. He cleared his throat.

"Wassup Sammy?"

"I was thinking-"

"Yeah, you do that too much."

Sam glowered at his brother.

"I know you like going out and getting drunk at night, don't ask me why, and I was **going** to say that, if you um, wanted, maybe, uh, Lexy could come over." Dean raised a single eyebrow. Sam hurried on. "I mean, cause what Dad said and stuff I thought you might want someone to watch out for me while you're out... doing whatever it is that you do out."

Dean leered at him. "I think you know exactly what I do when I'm out."

Sam's ears grew hot around the tips. His voice got a little louder too. "It doesn't matter, never mind."

He made to get up, but Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to the couch. Sam didn't resist.

"I understand Sam." Dean's tone and face were much gentler now, having lost the mocking edge. He always knew exactly how far he could push his brother.

"I think it's a good idea and if Dad seems to think there might be potentially more danger, we can definitely enlist her. Normally, your word would be fine, but I'll have to see what I think of her before I abandon you to her protection. As it is though, you know how to handle yourself, more than Dad gives you credit for, and it's not like I'm going to go out every single night or anything."

Sam practically glowed with pride. _Dean trusted him_. Suddenly, a tidal wave of guilt washed over his glow. Dean trusted him to stay home and stay safe and Sam was sneaking out to whore himself out. _For Dean though,_ he insisted to his conscience.

_I'm doing it so he doesn't have to worry about me so much. I doubt he'd think it was a fair trade._ Sam shoved his conscience to the cobwebbed recesses of his mind and gave it a time-out. Dean had been watching all the emotions flying over Sam's face with a strange interest. He was especially freaked out that it seemed to settle on resignation of all things. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on with his little brother, but Sam beat him to the punch.

"So, I was wondering..."

Dean closed his mouth and waited for Sam to continue.

"Maybe we could rent some movies today? I know Dad wanted us to keep up with practice and training, but maybe we could take a day off?"

Dean smiled hugely and Sam smiled back, both of them looking forward to a long day of pizza, bad action flicks, tacky dialogue, and enough ice cream to make anyone's stomach ache.

"Just this once Sammy, don't think this is going to become a normal thing." Dean warned, grinning as he did so, to let his baby brother know he was just as much a fan of taking some time off to just hang out as the next guy. Besides, when was the last time they had spent a whole day together just hanging out, not worried about anything? Too long ago, Dean decided quickly. He grabbed the newspaper from where their father had left it before, scanning the pages for a local fair or something for them to attend. Watching movies wouldn't be bad; although they'd both been known to go a little stir-crazy sometimes.

"Hey Sammy, there's a Renaissance Faire going on right now. Maybe we could go and you could be among your own kind! Just think how many nerds there'd be for you to play with!"

Sam glared indignantly at his brother.

"Yeah, just think how much you'd eat! And probably try to save some damsel in distress from a toy dragon." Sam snickered at the thought of Dean battling a puppet or someone dressed up. Everyone knew there was no such thing as dragons, but Sam had always wished there could be. He'd love to be a dragon slayer, even if he'd never tell Dean that. Dean waggled his eyebrows.

"You know you're the only damsel for me Samantha."

Sam gritted his teeth and launched a pillow at Dean's head. A drag down, all out war began between the two of them, racing around the couch, hiding in the bathroom, tackling each other and running off, and running crazily in circles. They were both panting hard when they finally came to a truce in the kitchen. Sam's stomach growled loudly and Dean groaned.

"Deeeeeean!" Sam whined, feeling hunger hit him suddenly. He felt almost weak in the knees with it. Considering how small he was, and would always be according to Dean, it really didn't make any sense for him to always be so hungry. Their father assured Sam that there was no such thing as a short Winchester man, and Sam fervently believed him. He'd think of that when Dean was teasing him for his apparently bottomless stomach or being the smallest kid in his class. He knew girls grew and matured faster than boys, really he did, but it was still difficult when they were taller than him, when he had to look up to speak to them. In that way, like so many others, he was jealous of Dean. Sure, it was probably easy to look so smooth and sexy when you could lean down to a girl, tuck a curl of hair behind her ear, and whisper something, tilting her head up to eye level when you spoke.

Sam shivered as his brain dragged him to dirtier places about the benefits of being taller than whoever you were seducing, wishing violently that someday, he'd be taller than his brother; his father too, although he didn't really want to associate his father with his line of thought. But tall, massive even. Mentally, Sam drooled over the thought of being tall, having muscles that stood out, looking older, more mature, more like Dean. Dean who had been steadily growing into his shoulders and whose hands had gotten huge and Sam had watched him grow, a disturbing mixture of jealousy growing as well. Jealous because he wanted to look like that too, but jealous also of the girls who got to have Dean in the only way Sam had ever been denied. It wasn't rational, Sam knew, but there it was. Emotions were a complicated thing.

Dean had been snapping his fingers in front of Sam's face for almost a minute before he seemed to register the movement. After the general teasing for being hungry again so soon after they'd eaten breakfast, Dean had felt the beginnings of worry when Sam seemed so unresponsive. And had such a strange look on his face. Dean had been close to shaking him when Sam began blinking again and returned to the world, shaking himself and sitting down at the table, looking down and then at Dean expectantly. Dean blinked.

"What the hell just happened Sammy?"

Sam shrugged.

"I dunno. I was just thinking is all."

Dean was skeptical. It seemed downright unnatural that someone Sam's age could get that absorbed in his own mind. It was something their father did all the time, but Dean sighed and got to work on some soup as Sam's stomach reminded them both it was hungry NOW. Dean mused as he turned up the heat on the stove. _Sam seemed to be growing up and, no matter how much Dean didn't want him to and tried to continually coddle him, much to Sam's anger and dismay, Sam was growing up fast. _


	12. These Foolish Things

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

Beta'd by Miss Tam!

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other colors represent characters' writing.

The next morning began normally enough for the Winchester boys. Sort of. Dean woke up earlier than Sam, which was already a little odd, and was on the computer doing research, which was even stranger. Sam stumbled out, yawning hugely and rubbing his eyes with his fists. His hair stuck out in more directions than Dean had thought possible.

Sam was just in a giant t-shirt, one of Dean's old ones. Dean wasn't sure why but it made him feel strange. _Like a mix of possessive and happiness, satisfaction and like he was pretty tempted to just pull Sam to him and just never let go._ Dean pursed his lips and forced his eyes back to the screen. Sam was too bleary eyed to notice.

"Lil bro, if you yawn any wider, I could see your spine."

Sam smiled sleepily at Dean. It was an often used greeting in the morning, but this morning Dean wondered _what it would be like to stick his fingers in Sam's mouth, pet his tongue, see how far back he could slide it before Sam started gagging and _**HELL NO**,he was not dealing with this in broad daylight._ It was bad enough he sometimes had these disturbing thoughts at inopportune moments in the shower or at night when he was half conscious, but right now? Wide awake? Nope._

"You're such a jerk in the morning."

Dean sneered, studiously keeping his eyes on his notes. He tried desperately to think of dead things, slime, airplanes, anything to diminish the arousal. He still returned, "Bitch."

Sam slouched to the pantry to find some cereal and a bowl. _It was a Lucky Charms sort of day,_ he decided, conveniently overlooking the fact that that was the only breakfast option. Dean frowned and jotted down some more notes. The reason he was awake was because his father had called earlier, needing some information and promising he'd call later so Dean would need to be home, did he hear him?

Sam plopped down with his bowl, narrowly avoiding sloshing milk out.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Watch yourself." Sam slurred, digging into the already-turning-blue milk. Dean gave him a half-hearted noogie and Sam attempted to bat his hand away. Sam focused on his cereal, slurping obscenely. Dean rolled his eyes and his cock twitched in his pajama pants. He gritted his teeth.

"Shouldn't slurp Sammy. Bad manners."

Sam paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth before snorting into his bowl, spilling the spoon's contents back in.

"Uh huh. Cause you're such a damn gentleman."

Dean puffed out his chest. "In fact, I am."

Sam stuck out his tongue and went back to his cereal. He'd finished the actual pieces of cereal and soon was just drinking the milk. The left over milk was his favorite part. It was sickly sweet and sort of made him gag if he swallowed it all at once, so he took small spoon-fulls. He dug up a small bunch of soggy sugar that had fallen to the bottom and proceeded to lick his spoon thoroughly.

Sam got lost in the flavor. He hadn't actually had Lucky Charms in a while, (their dad had been buying Captain Crunch which he and Dean shared a fondness for and Sam was entirely sick of by that point), and he was mostly still asleep at that point. So if he went a little overboard on the moaning and twisting his tongue in delicate patterns around the cool metal, well. _It wasn't like Dean had never appreciated his food. _Besides, Dean was always doing everything he could to embarrass Sam, so why shouldn't he return the favor?

Dean was watching through his peripheral vision at first, but slowly turned to watch head on. He was transfixed. _How is this so pornographic?_ He could feel himself swell to hardness alarmingly fast. He carefully palmed himself through the soft material and only just managed to stifle the resulting hiss.

When had his little brother learned to do things like this? Or where? Much less eat like that? Was he practicing on someone? It didn't look like his tongue was fumbling at all, with the way it slowly snaked around the spoon, gathering every last drop of milk. _What the actual fuck?_

It was precisely then, at 10am on the dot, that someone knocked at the door. That was not unheard of. They did have neighbors. Mrs. Robinson had brought them homemade pie a few times, (acquiring Dean's everlasting love), but other than her, there is anyone else that would want them. Especially so early.

Dean was more awake, so he sighed, shoving his chair back and standing up, and walked to answer the door. He thanked more than a few deities that his hard-on went away as soon as he stopped watching Sam. Or, at least, it softened enough to not be completely noticeable. If someone looked, they could probably tell, but he wasn't betting on anyone gazing at his crotch this early in the morning. God, the only people who think about shit like that were total perverts, _wannabe child-molesters, _like himself. Sam listened as the door swung open. His heart nearly stopped.

"Hey Sam, it's about the doctors-oh. I'm sorry."

Sam raced out of the kitchen to the front door, skidding a little in his socks and almost ramming into Dean, who had crossed his arms and was frowning. Lexy shot an apologetic look at Sam.

"I didn't think there'd be anyone else home."

Sam nodded. The last thing he'd told her was that Dean was leaving again with his father. But, why didn't she just call? He cocked an eyebrow at her. Lexy grimaced. Dean was tired, annoyed at himself, and generally not amused.

"Okay. So, you're what, like 14?"

"19."

Dean did a double take. He looked her up and down, using his usual 'Dean Charm' to try and win her over. It didn't matter that she wasn't really his traditional type. She was a girl. It was practically ingrained in his DNA to check her out, to get her smiling and giggling. For the first time, _in a really long while,_ she didn't seem to respond. At all. She was too busy watching Sam. Dean couldn't decide if he was jealous of Sam for holding her rapt attention or of Lexy for being a good friend of Sam's. He tried not to think of either.

"Are you Lexy?"

"I am indeed."

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. Lexy looked surprised.

"What's the matter?"

Dean's hands flexed and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Oh I don't know, some strange 19 year old girl banging on the door at 10am, talking about doctors because she assumed my 12 year old brother was alone at home."

Sam felt a little betrayed and mostly sorry for Lexy. _They'd already talked about this, for Heaven's sake! Couldn't Dean at least be a little nicer about 'getting to know her'? _Lexy looked puzzled. She cocked her head to the side, studying Dean. He shifted under her scrutiny, but didn't break her gaze.

"Um, well. It's sort of a long story, and a rather private one. It doesn't concern you. Also, the last time Sam and I spoke, he mentioned you and his father leaving soon, so I couldn't really have been expected to be expecting you."

Sam knew Lexy meant it earnestly, but he wanted to smack his face with his palm. It was the exact wrong thing to say to Dean. He flared up immediately, getting in Lexy's personal space, managing to tower over her. She didn't seem intimidated in the slightest.

"Okay Miss, I don't know what you think you're trying to pull here, but I'm pretty sure whatever my little brother is doing **does** concern me and it concerns me right the fuck now!"

Sam was doing some quick thinking. He stepped between them before things got out of hand. Lexy was opening her mouth, probably to fire back some retort which would not help anything and Sam was still nervous because whatever the news about the doctor was, if she'd come to tell him personally, it couldn't be good. He felt a stone in the pit of his stomach and tried to swallow.

"Planned Parenthood Dean. That's what she's talking about."

The anger drained out of Dean, replaced by wary curiosity.

"Isn't that an abortion place?"

Sam was really not prepared to run with this, but he knew he needed to in order to speak with Lexy privately and quickly.

"I said I'd go with her."

Sam lifted his chin and stared straight into Dean's eyes. He couldn't lie to his brother; he knew that well. But here, he wasn't lying at all. He just wasn't disabusing what he hoped were Dean's incorrect notions. Dean's ideas about these sort of things tended to be pretty straightforward.

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times before glancing at Lexy, who was staring at the ground, looking properly chagrined. The blood drained from his face and he seemed to have some trouble breathing. Sam got very worried. He hadn't expected Dean to react like this. _Did he have something against abortions? Was he going to try and talk Lexy out of this or something equally silly? _Dean turned to Sam and said faintly.

"I didn't think we'd have to have the Always Use Protection talk until you were a little bit older." Dean ran his hand through his hair, backing up and looking very distressed. Sam only heard Lexy's soft snicker because he was standing so close to her. "Fuck. I should have guessed, or talked to you or-"

It had still taken Sam a minute to figure out what Dean was rambling on about.

"**DEAN!"** Dean paused. "It's not my damn baby! I can't believe you'd think that!"

Dean looked flabbergasted. Then immense relief washed over him, as well as, the nasty voice in Dean's head noted, _diminishing the jealousy surrounding Lexy. You didn't really want to meet her, had hoped she'd be busy. Have a life. Not come over. He wasn't sure he could handle knowing about Sam having sex with someone, much less knocking them up. And wasn't that hypocritical?_

"Listen, um, just, let me go with her okay? I promise we won't be gone very long. I'll take my phone with me, in case anything comes up."

"I'll come with."

Sam nearly panicked, his mind racing. Crazily, he started to wonder how to explain to Dean when they got there why **he **was the one going in with the nice doctor and not Lexy. Then, he remembered.

"What about Dad?"

Dean's face fell and Sam felt a perverse sort of satisfaction. Dean would never defy a direct order from their father, no matter what. Certainly not where Sam was concerned anyway. Dean chewed on his lip and Sam tried valiantly not to stare, his gaze flickering around the room and Lexy.

"Yeah fine. Go put on some pants."

Sam nodded and raced to get dressed before Dean could change his mind. He kept his fingers crossed that Dean wasn't well versed in abortions or the fact that after receiving one, the woman was not allowed to drive for the rest of the day. He wondered for a moment if they exchanged any more words while he was getting dressed, because when he was done and came out, Dean looked considerably more calm. Sam practically dashed out into Lexy's little purple car and slammed the door a little harder than he'd meant. Lexy winced.

"I'm not fanatical, but try and be nice to my car, eh?"

Sam blushed.

"Yeah sorry." He mumbled. Lexy began driving and waited a beat before she started to speak. Sam held his breath, heart hammering in his ribs.

"Don't look like that. Your face will get stuck that way."

Sam screwed up his face and grimaced at her, clearly conveying _Not in the mood Lexy_. She sighed.

"It's not bad news."

Sam relaxed minutely. "Then why didn't you call?"

Lexy made a face. "I guess I should have, but last night the doc called me and requested you come back once the clinic opened this morning."

Sam felt his pulse race again, his heart kicking up.

"Did he say why?"

Lexy nodded. "Remember how I'd requested a surface rectal exam?"

"Yeah."

"And remember how you didn't get one?"

"Yeah."

"He didn't want to traumatize you any more than was needed. He figured it was too soon and maybe unnecessary. But, he changed his mind. I don't think the test results are back; he just wants to cover his bases. Wouldn't do for you to get some sort of infection down there."

Sam grimaced again and nodded, staring out the window.

It didn't seem to take as long to get there this time, although Sam was asleep the first time so it's difficult to judge by dream-time. Once in there though, it was the same girl at the Receptionist's Desk and again, they barely had to wait at all before the doctor was showing them back to the same examination room and gesturing towards the chair for Lexy and the bed for Sam.

"I'm sorry to have to call you back here Young Man."

Sam shook his head, bangs flipping around his face.

"It's fine."

_When did my voice get so small?_

"Now, I'm going to need you to take your lower garments off and lay down. If you wish, your friend may stay in here; I can drape a sheet over your legs or she can turn her back."

Sam nodded fervently before wondering if Lexy wouldn't be weirded out. Luckily, she seemed fine with it, smiling at him and brushing the hair out of his eyes. She had some sort of obsession with breaking Sam of his habit of hiding behind his hair. He didn't think she could break him of it, but it was helping his confidence a little. Sam returned the smile, albeit hesitantly.

He stripped quietly and lay down. Lexy turned her back and sort of perched so she was looking down at Sam's face. Sam heard the doctor snap on latex gloves and flinched. He felt a comforting hand on the side of his face.

"You're not allergic to latex are you?"

Sam shook his head then, not sure if the doctor had seen him, voiced the no. The doctor continued.

"Now, I'm going to narrate what I'm doing. I'm going to go slow and warn you every time about any potential pain. It's going to be uncomfortable Sam. You're very brave for letting me do this."

Sam flushed and closed his eyes in shame. Lexy leaned close.

"This is not something to be ashamed of Sam."

He opened his eyes at how well she could read him. She gave him a half-smile.

"Trust me. This wasn't in any way your fault."

Sam laughed, a little hysterically, as he felt the doctor propping his feet up and apart, settling them into what felt like stirrups.

"Lexy, I'm a whore."

Lexy's face darkened and Sam didn't chance looking at the doctor. When Lexy spoke her voice was quiet and dangerous.

"Sam. No matter what. **Nothing** entitles someone to take what he did from you." She held up a hand to ward off his protests. "I don't care how provocatively you were dressed or how cute you were batting your lashes at him. No means no."

Her voice softened and she stroked her hand down his forehead. "It always will."

Sam felt a tear slip from his eye and cursed himself for being so weak. He closed his eyes and felt the tears well up and slide out anyway. Lexy's hand never stopped stroking his hair and her other hand gripped his tight. The doctor cleared his throat delicately.

"Okay Sam. I'm just going to have a look first. This is going to feel embarrassing, but please bear with me."

Sam made a small noise of acquiescence. The doctor spread him open, looking for tears or any remnants of abuse. He probed his fingers around, searching. He found some tender spots: he felt Sam flinch and clench around him before forcing himself to relax.

"You're doing very well."

Sam still didn't feel up to speaking.

"Okay, this is going to be cold and it will hurt. Take deep breaths okay?"

Sam bit his lips and began trying to steady his breathing.

"Breathe in... breathe out."

Sam exhaled loudly, ending on a groan of pain. He felt something icy cold, slippery and metallic shoved inside of his hole. Then he felt it expanding, albeit slowly. He tried to focus on the doctor, commanding him to breathe, in and out and in again. He vaguely registered a slight dampness on his face and that his vision was blurring. He panicked for a brief second before he realized that he was crying.

Then it stopped expanding and Lexy was cooing to him, nonsense words that nevertheless had a calming effect. He felt Lexy wipe the tears and was grateful she chose not to comment on them. Sam felt something tiny and smooth probing around, it was just as freezing as whatever was holding him open, and he flinched a few more times, trying to count and measure his breaths. Incredibly, only a few minutes actually passed _(it felt like an eternity)_ before the object was collapsed and pulled gently out of Sam. He sighed in relief and finally looked at the doctor.

"You were hurt pretty badly Sam."

Sam nodded, looking away and looking back.

"However, you are young. Your body seems to be healing nicely. You'll be sensitive there for a while, perhaps another week or two. I'm going to prescribe some pills for you."

He grabbed some paper and started scrawling in distinctively doctor-esque script of one whose handwriting was almost uniformly cramped, tiny, and illegible to laymen.

"Okay, so these you take twice a day for four days, they'll make sure you don't get an infection. These you take once a day for three weeks, they'll soften your stool so you don't reopen any healing wounds, and these are for pain. You take them at your discretion, but Sam,"

Sam had finished getting dressed, but paused and looked at the doctor.

"You need to actually take these. No one besides you knows what kind of pain you're in. Also," Sam tilted his head in question, wondering what else was left. "I can only help with the physical pain. Please, try and find a support network of some sort. Your friend is an amazing woman, but there's only so much one girl can do."

The doctor looked at him meaningfully before signing the paper slips and handing them to Lexy. She grabbed them and gestured for Sam to follow her.

"We'll stop by Rite-Aid and get these before I bring you home."

Lexy paused and looked at Sam closely, just before they hit the front door. Sam looked at her. It was only then that he realized how lightheaded he felt and how much he was shivering. Lexy's arm wrapped around his waist as she opened the door for them and led them both out to the parking lot. She wasn't trying to carry him, or even shift his weight onto her; Sam would have shoved her off if she did. No, she was just there, a warm supportive presence, helping him stand, mentally and physically.


	13. My Fair Lady

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

The next time Dean found himself at Bangkok, he was not inebriated. In fact, he had only opened the beer at the bar nearby perfunctorily. He hadn't had so much as a sip in the entire fifteen minutes he'd sat there. A cute little blonde thing had come over, purring in a voice that was almost too deep for a woman and rough, like she was a smoker. Normally, she'd be just Dean's type.

But that night, something felt off. He felt a pang, and wanted to see brown hair and hear a softer, higher, and slightly foreign _(though he couldn't for the life of him place the accent)_ voice, not this woman. He politely excused himself and nearly dashed over to the brothel. Upon coming inside, he marched straight up to The Temple, waiting to get the attention of the man cleaning the bar. Dean cleared his throat.

"Is uh-"

_Hmmm. Sammi was the name given to him._ He didn't really think it was her name, and he wasn't sure if it was even her common name that she used here. He concentrated hard, trying to remember if he'd looked at her ID card, the one that everyone who worked there carried around. _D something? Deanna? Dina? Demeter? _

"I think her common name begins with a D?" Dean finished lamely, blushing and staring down at the shining wooden surface. The man smiled.

"Delilah?"

Dean looked up. The man grinned and gave a half shrug, continuing to polish a glass in his hands.

"I've seen you here before and you've never asked specifically for anyone. The last time you were here, you were with her and she'd just started working here." He said, by way of explanation. Dean hadn't imagined that he was so transparent, but decided he didn't care at the moment.

"Yeah, um, Delilah. Is she working tonight?" Dean prayed fervently that she was. To his delight, the guy nodded.

"Yeah, she was just over here to get some Rhum Punch, it's a specialty I make for her because she doesn't really want that much alcohol in her drinks. She's a real sweetheart."

Dean smiled and stepped back, glancing around. He didn't see her anywhere. There were some people milling around though, so Dean decided to sit down and wait for her to come back. She'd probably gone to the restroom or something. There was one short man sitting with two tall, busty Asian beauties, one of whom had her hand on his leg and the other was gently rubbing his shoulders. Dean snickered.

Another girl walked closer to Dean, distracting him. He'd been with her a few times, when he'd really needed to burn off some stress and was in the mood for some less than conventional things. She always wore what she referred to as her 'Battle Suit', which resembled a black full-body suit with major cutouts on the arms, back, stomach, and legs, with thigh high lace up stiletto boots. She had spiked black hair, wore bright red lipstick, and painted her face with whiskers. Unsurprisingly, her common name was Kitty.

"Hi again, Dean."

Dean grinned lasciviously up at her from where he was seated. "Hi there Kitty. How're you this fine evening?"

Dean couldn't help it. He automatically went into flirting mode. He was still talking to her a few minutes later when Sam emerged from the left hallway. Sam had heard Dean asking about him in the next room, where he'd been orally occupied with Mark, and so he'd stepped up his performance, hoping to end things quickly. He'd left Mark basking in an afterglow while he'd gone to the bathroom to make himself look more presentable.

Sam had frozen in the entrance, seeing Dean flirt shamelessly with the girl he'd vaguely heard mentioned as a real Dominatrix. Sam tried to swallow, feeling a huge weight settle in his stomach. _Seeing Dean with someone else just..._

"Hey there, thanks again for that."

Mark came stumbling around, grinning widely at Sam who had the sudden urge to prove that he **did not** in any way care that Dean was chatting up some woman in a leather suit. Sam smiled invitingly. He leaned against the doorway, making sure to angle his body slightly in Dean's direction, so he could see him. Sam rolled his shoulders, pushing his dress at a cock-eyed angle and letting some hair escape his clips. He licked his lips.

"Ah sure am so happy you lahked it." Sam slowed his words down even more than normal, batting his eyelashes at Mark and gazing at him like he was the only thing that mattered; keeping his eyes away from Dean.

Meanwhile, Dean was currently trying to fend off Kitty's attempts to pull him back with her and was looking around for an excuse when his eyes landed on Sammi. And some **other guy.** Dean was furious and strode towards them before he realized what he was doing.

Mark gently stroked his hand down Sam's face and it was a good thing that Dean was walking over like an angry bull, nostrils flaring, because Sam didn't have to bother trying to hide his flinch.

Mark looked over at Dean, who was now beside them. Dean looked at Mark and growled, low in his chest, possessiveness written all over his face. Sam was inwardly ecstatic. Mark raised an eyebrow.

"May I help you, Mister?"

Dean clenched his jaw. "You may help yourself to the door."

Mark looked surprised and confused. He glanced at Sam, who kept his face carefully blank before looking back at Dean.

"Um, not to be obvious, but these girls are for sharing..."

Dean narrowed his eyes dangerously. Sam worried a bit for Mark's well-being. So did Mark.

"But it doesn't matter. I'm done with her. For now." He leered down at Sam then turned on his heel and walked away. Sam didn't miss the way the door closed a little louder than it needed to. Dean continued to stand there. Sam grew impatient as the silence stretched.

"What? I'm not going to apologize. This is my **job. **I heard you out here and came out to find you when I was done."

Sam looked meaningfully back at the couch where Kitty was still sitting, looking a combination of perplexed, amused, and pissed off. Dean felt a sharp flash of hurt at Sammi's reminder that this was nothing more than work for her.

"You were busy with someone **else.**"

Dean blinked a few times, the rage from his face fading. He tilted his head. "Um, I was just talking with her."

"That was some tactile talking if ever I've seen it."

Sam didn't mean to snap the way he did and winced when the words left his mouth. The entire situation was ridiculous. Dean had no right to be incensed at Sam helping another customer and Sam shouldn't care if Dean had needs he can't fulfill. Sam sighed and looked at the ground. Strong arms suddenly wrapped around him and he felt a mouth at his ear.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry." Dean murmured. Sam pulled away a little, but not enough to dislodge Dean's arms. He felt Dean slide money into the small purse he had in one hand, having pulled it out in case Mark had decided to tip him, as he was wont to do. Sam briefly considered giving him the money back, but that would be a dead giveaway. At this rate, Dean was going to pay for his own jacket.

"C'mon."

Sam towed him into a different room and closed the door.

"I'm sorry too. I just didn't realize you... that I wasn't doing what you needed... not being what you need... I sort of feel like an idiot now."

Sam was attempting to keep his breathing steady. The last thing he needed was to start crying, and he didn't really have a clue why he could feel tears welling in the corners of his well-lined eyes. Dean pulled Sam close and nuzzled into his hair.

"What're you talking about? What do you mean?"

Sam figured he'd tackle both things simultaneously. He took a deep breath and pushed himself very reluctantly away from Dean's embrace.

"Well, first, you obviously like the whole dom/sub thing which I'm not really versed in at all-"

Dean cut him off, holding up a hand. "It only happened a couple of times. And both times I was the dom; she wanted to see what it was like to sub for someone."

Sam bit his lip. Well, that was something of a relief. Because Sam had come to the conclusion that he really liked being dominated and probably wouldn't be very good at having that kind of control over someone else, especially Dean. It wasn't true about his knowledge; he knew an extensive amount of dominating/subbing techniques and practices, but he still hadn't had the opportunity to put them to the test. He couldn't exactly rely on research to get him through everything.

_It's all worked so far though... _He continued on, gently stopping Dean before he could get close again, knowing that he wouldn't be able to pull himself away a second time. It was selfish and needy, but he owed it to Dean to finish as much of the confession as he could before anything else happened between them. He'd even gladly refund the money.

"Also, er, I'm. Well, I'm a boy."

Sam flinched, shrinking into himself, suddenly realizing that the admission had been incredibly stupid. He'd told Dean his name was Sammi, meaning it was only natural to draw the conclusion that, as a boy, his name was Sam, which put Dean one step closer to figuring out his secret. If he hadn't already. Dean liked to pretend that he was nothing more than a hunting machine, Daddy's little soldier, or just a pretty face, but Sam knew better. Dean was smart. If he wanted to, _if Dad would let him want to, _he could easily get into the college of his choice.

Sam belatedly saw that his 'disguise' was hardly more than elaborate make up and costuming. His Canadian accent came and went around Dean and so far they hadn't had any deep conversations, but Sam was absolutely unable to lie to Dean. _How did I ever expect this to result in anything but disaster?_ Sam felt slightly ill. He was so not ready to deal with the consequences of Dean discovering his extra curricular activities. _He hadn't even had a chance to get him the fucking jacket yet_! Sam closed his eyes and tried to prevent the panic attack he felt rapidly closing in.

"Yeah, I figured."

Sam's eyes flew open. He stared, incredulous. Dean looked mildly perplexed. His eyebrows furrowed in a way that Sam had always associated with a particularly odd order from Dad.

"Did you think that I...?" Dean's face cleared. He asked softly. "Is that what you're so worried about?"

Sam just blinked dumbly. Dean stepped forward and reached out to stroke Sam's hair. He wasn't all the way back in Sam's space, but he was close enough to get Sam's heartbeat ratcheting through his ribs.

"Sammi, you're built like a guy. And don't get me wrong, you're gorgeous, but you look like a boy. A very, very pretty boy, but a boy. Close up anyway. I couldn't tell when I first saw you though."

Sam's head was reeling. Even when Lexy had told him that Bangkok was known for it's men-as-women, Sam still couldn't believe that Dean had known. Sam wondered if _Dean had been to other places in other cities, finding petite guys who'd simper and pretend to be girls for him?_ Sam felt jealousy stir in his chest at the thought.

"I assumed you only liked girls. Girls like Kitty."

Dean's face clouded again for a minute. "I like girls too, but really I don't discriminate. Is that what you meant before? About not being what I wanted? Because that's just not true."

Dean **finally **closed the distance between them and tilted Sam's head up as he leaned down, slotting their lips together. Sam immediately let go of everything he was thinking in favor of opening his mouth, before Dean even had to probe, kissing Dean passionately. Dean seemed a little surprised by the sudden force, but accepted it and backed up, pulling Sam with him towards the large mattress on the floor.

Sam had certainly been learning about kissing, but he wasn't great at it and it wasn't very often that he was the aggressor. He felt Dean smile against his mouth when he tilted his head too far and clacked their teeth. He felt a bit mortified that he was still so inexperienced in these **important **things, but so far, if anything, Dean seemed to find his fuck ups endearing. They wobbled and fell together backwards on the floor mattress, breaking apart gasping. Dean rolled Sam underneath him.

"I do like to be in control though. I can't deny that."

Sam's pupils were blown wide, his irises almost completely obliterated. His eyeliner was just slightly smudged and he was blinking rapidly, trying to not just lose consciousness from pleasure. The dim lighting in the room reflected off of his false eyelashes, black this evening, but with tiny golden drops studded across the lash line, twinkling and making every expression that much more wanton. He was panting desperately. He was so happy at least one of them knew how to do things right and _ohgod_ did he want things to just go perfectly for Dean.

"Anything. Anything you want. Anything at all."

Dean's eyes widened. Sam could feel him jerk through his jeans. Sam leaned his head back, baring his neck: the universal sign of submission. Some small part of Dean's brain registered this as a little too permissive, even for someone he was paying for the pleasure, but the rest of his brain was residing in his dick. The idea that he could do absolutely **anything **made his vision swim slightly and he was nearly positive that most whores would find his inner fantasies appalling. The control he was attempting to maintain suddenly had a hole in the shape of Sammi's pretty mouth, tongue licking at the inside of her bottom lip, probably not even a conscious movement.

Sam immediately had his hands hauled above his head and pinned down in one of Dean's huge hands. Dean whipped off his shirt, making Sam wince as he heard the sound of seams being torn, and used it to tie Sam's wrists together above him.

Sam groaned and arched his back, trying to touch Dean's newly exposed skin. He promptly forgot that his hands were bound and just ended up jerking in Dean's direction. Dean snarled and shoved Sam's arms down, hard enough that he made a small whimpering noise. Sam didn't try to move his arms again. Dean took his time, moving down Sam's body. He didn't really undress him as much as just hike up his dress to the bottom of his ribcage, undo the belt, and shove it hastily out of his way.

Sam was glad he'd invested in skin colored cream to cover his distinctive scars. It had been a last minute suggestion of Lexy's but waterproof everything and especially this creamy lotion. It had sparkles in it, smelled good, and tasted even better. He slathered it on so even if the guys were all over him with their tongues, enough would remain to mask the scars and birthmarks. Dean stripped off his panties and chucked them off of the mattress.

Sam canted his hips up towards Dean, his cock throbbing hard in its bindings. Dean smirked and stroked it with a fingernail. Sam writhed and Dean held him down with a forearm across his stomach. Sam wished he could be a little gentler, but didn't really have enough brain cells working to complain.

"Sssshhhhh. Sssssshhhhh. Baby. Baby, just relax. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take such good care of you." Dean whispered as he petted.

Dean dug his fingernail into Sam's weeping slit, deeper than Sam ever did himself and Sam keened, wiggling and having trouble remembering whether he was pulling away or pushing towards the overwhelming sensations. Dean slid his hand lower, rubbing his finger around Sam's hole. Sam's eyes rolled back into his head. The caressing was wonderful, far better than anything he could hope to do himself. Sam felt Dean's finger probe inside just slightly, his calloused finger catching on the sensitive skin, and Sam hissed, actively struggling to get away now.

_No. nononononono._ Sam was suddenly on the verge of hysterics and he was sure Dean was going to stop, or smack him, or tell him what a terrible whore he was, or anything. Sam felt his heart go from racing in ecstasy to terror and humiliation. _No way Dean would ever want to come back or have anything to do with him now._ Dean immediately stopped pushing, but didn't stop any of his other ministrations.

His finger stroked Sam's perineum, saying sorry as it continued its gentle journey upwards. Sam felt tears prickling at his eyes. _I couldn't even handle a finger? And when did I get so emotional about all of this? It's just sex. _His mind shook its head, _no_, at him. _It's sex with_ **Dean.**

Before Sam could start feeling too sorry for himself though, he heard the swish of a belt coming out of loops and the sounds of Dean stripping. Before Sam had a chance to open his eyes, he felt Dean untying him with clever fingers. Sam, Jr. bounced up and whacked his stomach enthusiastically, leaving a few drops of pre-cum pooling there. Sam looked to see Dean gently lift his balls and then tie his legs together with his belt, settling them on top of his now closed thighs. Sam was immensely confused. This seemed to be a strange thing to do during sex. Dean straddled Sam, looking down at him.

"Am I gonna have to help you or can you hold off on coming for a while?"

Sam's head spun. He twitched against his stomach. Dean's smile grew crooked. He leaned back, grabbed the scarf he'd just untied and carefully, but tightly, bound Sam's cock and balls, making sure Sam would not be coming any time soon. Sam moaned and rolled from side to side. Dean leaned down, placing his forearms next to Sam's head.

"Like that? Like being all trussed up for me? Maybe if you feel up to it one day, I'll just turn you over and fuck you while you can't do anything. Blindfolded next time maybe."

Dean wasn't really sure why he was talking or what he was even saying at that point. It wasn't one of his kinks and he never really did anything like it before, but Sammi sure seemed to respond well. It took all of his concentration to keep from blushing or letting his unease show. Dean resolved to do some research on dirty talking, if this was going to be a good thing. Sammi obviously liked it and if he was going to come back, and boy did he know in his gut that he'd be coming back often, he wanted to make Sammi feel good too. Logically, he knew that he was paying for this and Sammi could just be faking everything, but something inside of him didn't think so. And Dean got a lot of pleasure out of making his partner feel good; he always had. So he would learn to talk filthy, if that's what got Sammi off. He couldn't get by on porn dialogue forever.

To distract himself, Dean ran his thumb over Sammi's eyes, watching avidly as his eyelashes flirted with the rough skin, then dipped lower to his mouth. Sammi opened, eagerly taking in Dean's fingers and sucking on them, wrapping his tongue around them. Dean moaned in the back of his throat and rolled his hips down against Sammi, providing friction and more frustration in Sammi's tied up state.

"Never gag you though. Not when you've got such a gorgeous mouth. Such a good little tongue."

Sam couldn't form a coherent thought so he settled for thrusting up, making small whimpering sounds he'd never later admit to. Dean moved down, kissing and nipping lightly around Sam's jaw line. Sam tossed his head and tried to capture Dean's lips with his own, but Dean just laughed, outmaneuvering Sam's wild movements. Before Sam had too much time to be frustrated, Dean scooted up and sat up off of his feet, so he was kneeling and looking down at Sam, eyes darker than Sam had ever seen.

"Keep your mouth open baby. Just try to relax."

Sam hardly had time to realize what was happening, much less prepare himself, before Dean had fisted his own cock and was painting Sam's lips with his pre-cum that was spurting out of the tip. Sam's mouth opened of its own accord.

"That's right. There you go."

Sam could barely breathe. Dean put a hand on the wall behind Sam to steady himself and proceeded to feed his dick to Sam's impatient mouth, smearing lipstick all around the head. Every time Sam tried to close his mouth around it though, Dean would draw back, a smile playing across his lips. Finally, Sam snaked his tongue around the tip and twisted it effortlessly. Dean seemed to kind of lose it.

"Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod."

Dean let go of himself and grabbed the back of Sam's head, yanking his face up. Sam thanked every deity he could think of that he'd practiced this a lot and so wasn't choking too much. The last thing he needed right now was something else that he couldn't do right. At this rate, with him not being able to handle a single knuckle on a finger though, he was going nowhere fast. With a last bit of brain-power, Sam resolved to work on it the next time he was in the shower.

Dean was brushing the back of his throat with every thrust and it was all Sam could do to keep up, trying desperately to breathe through his nose. Whenever he tried to close his eyes, Dean would growl, low in his chest.

"Sammi, **fuck**. Look at me."

Sam groaned around Dean, which triggered a deeper moan that ripped itself from Dean's throat. He wasn't such a big fan of Dean talking dirty to him, but if that's what got him off, well, that was good enough for Sam. He really did enjoy hearing his own name in his brother's wrecked voice. _How sick is that? _Sam slid his tongue underneath and flicked it back and forth every time the head of Dean's cock shoved its way through Sam's lips.

Sam slobbered everywhere, his saliva unable to drain down his throat because of the awkward angle his head was being used at. He knew he'd have a serious crick in his spine the next morning. Sam drew his knees up, humping at the air, desperate for some kind of contact, anything. All of a sudden, Dean thrust all the way down Sam's throat and lurched back, hauling Sam with him as he fell back. Dean was coming in long milky streams and Sam's throat worked around him, ringing every last bit of pleasure from his release.

Even after, Sam kept lapping at the head, not noticing or caring about the change in position. Dean was on his side and Sam was above him, giving him kitten licks while Dean writhed in the edge between pleasure and pain. Sam supported himself on an elbow as his hands were still bound. One of Dean's legs jolted and inadvertently brushed against Sam, still throbbing and tied too tight to finish. Sam cried out.

Dean immediately recovered, rolling Sam onto his back again and fastening his mouth over Sam's dick, keeping his forearm pinned across his hips to keep him from driving his hips up wildly. Sam was babbling.

"Pleasepleaseplease. You gotta let me, gotta come, please, do anything, feels so good, feels so good, don't deserve this, really really don't, but oh god, please, never felt so good, make me want, anything, everything, I needneedneed, god-DEAN!"

Sam had been so distracted that he hadn't felt Dean untying the scarf until he was coming down Dean's throat. Sam nearly passed out. His vision whited out, then darkened as he struggled to remember what breathing was and why it was so fucking important right now when he was in the middle of the **best damn orgasm** he'd ever had. He was still making jumbled noises when Dean sat next to him, undoing the ties and freeing Sam's limbs. Not that Sam had too much strength to do much of anything with his freedom. He lay there, boneless and chest heaving, losing himself in the green swirls of Dean's eyes.

Dean wondered _what had happened to make Sammi have such a problem with penetration?_ It seemed like kind of a strange thing for someone who worked in her line of business to be afraid of or even uncomfortable with. On the other hand, she did comment that she was new. Inexperienced. Maybe that's what she had meant.

Same for what she was saying earlier. He was suddenly worried about what had just happened. _Those didn't all sound like happy noises. Was I doing something wrong? Something she didn't like? Something that hurt maybe? God, what if this gets out of hand? I could really hurt or scare her. Christ._ Dean realized with a sick lurch that no matter what he did, Sammi wasn't going to complain or even comment. All of this was aimed to please him. He was paying her, for God's sakes, and unless he directly questioned it, he doubted she'd criticize anything he did.

Dean blinked himself back to the present. The complete adoration in Sammi's eyes made him shudder. He felt almost drunk with power and she seemed so **willing **to do anything he wanted. Anything at all. Dean stayed with her for a while after, just stroking Sammi's face, giving languid kisses every few minutes.

When he finally left and Sam had scrambled to change and get home before him, Sam finally realized what was off about the whole thing. Dean hadn't stank or even remotely tasted of alcohol.


	14. Careless Rapture

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other colors represent characters' writing.

Sam had started leaving his cell phone on all the time now. He and Lexy had worked it out that unless there was an emergency or he'd explicitly told her to come on over, there would be no more unexpected visits. Dean still hadn't exactly been responding well to Sam's wheedling for him to give Lexy another chance, but he was sure he would eventually wear him down. Besides, Dean had obviously noticed that Sam and Lexy were trading calls frequently and usually, Dean wouldn't comment. He did insist on being present for the conversations, even though he could only hear Sam's side.

Sam had told Lexy early on about Dean's wariness, so they had been creative enough to come up with code words for Sam to use. Ways for him to answer her questions without giving anything away. After a few failed attempts of (fortunately) unimportant and occasionally humorous misunderstandings, they had a system worked out. So far Dean hadn't picked up on anything out of the ordinary.

"Chatting with your girlfriend again?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Lexy chuckled: she could hear Dean through the line. She'd mentioned it to Sam early on, in case he ever needed to say something to Dean in private, that he needed to really cover the mouthpiece well.

"Is he always that wonderful?"

"Yup."

Sam gritted his teeth, glaring at his brother. He could feel Lexy's indulgent smile. Dean just grinned like a shark at him.

"So, Sam. This is actually serious. Cut the brotherly love for a second."

Sam's smile fell of his lips and Dean frowned at the abrupt change in demeanor. He mouthed to Sam.

What? What's wrong?

Sam shook his head at Dean, not wanting to be distracted. Lexy's voice lowered, although there was no way Dean could have heard her before. Sam had made sure of that initially. It wasn't like he was ever going to put her on speaker-phone and it was a feature that he was fairly sure Dean didn't even know existed on their phones.

"I was phoned by Planned Parenthood earlier today."

Sam felt his stomach tie itself up in complicated knots. He knew he must have grown pale; Dean was inching closer and closer, looking like he wanted to possibly take the phone away. Or to hear what she was saying. Sam swallowed, his suddenly dry throat clicking audibly. Dean mouthed to him again.

Lemme talk to her. What's going on?

Dean motioned for Sam to give the phone over, but Sam twisted away slightly, shaking his head vehemently no. Dean edged closer, trying to incline his head and maybe catch a snippet of the conversation. This was unusual. Sam and Lexy often chatted about who knows what, but Sam was always laughing or smiling. Dean felt a bit left out, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, (_it was probably not the best idea he'd ever had, but he was giving truth a shot_), and he was getting increasingly jealous of Lexy, but whenever he pressed, Sam never showed any romantic inclination towards her.

Not that it was something Dean was opposed to. _Of course not._ _Sammy was definitely old enough to get a crush on someone. _Dean nodded internally. It ought to have worried him more that Sam hadn't shown that kind of interest in a girl yet. Maybe Dean was barking up the wrong tree. _What if Sam is gay?_

Well, it wouldn't be overly surprisingly, seeing as how he was always behaving like a fucking **girl**. But seriously, even if he was, it wasn't like Dean could or would do anything about it. Not even like he could say anything negative about it without making himself into the biggest hypocrite ever, considering his own sexual exploits. Dean had never understood why some people got so uptight about being gay or straight. He felt like it wasn't really anyone else's business to judge. He wasn't so sure if their dad would accept it, but maybe he wasn't giving John enough credit. Or maybe it was the sort of thing a guy just didn't talk about with his dad.

_Or his brother? _What if Sam had tried to say something about it before? _No chick flick moments. How often have you brushed him off with that before? _Dean felt a bit nauseated at the idea that he had somehow scared Sam away. _He's probably too embarrassed or intimidated. You are always bragging about how many women you sleep with. _Dean's stomach dropped further. What if Sam thought he would be angry with him over it?

What if Sam thought that he had to keep it a secret or Dean would tease him maliciously? What if this was just the beginning of an irreparable rift in their tight-knit relationship? Besides worry and a huge wave of guilt, Dean felt real fear worm its way into his heart. He needed to try and listen more. Speaking of which...

_It wasn't just the romantic (or lack thereof) aspect though of whatever Sam was doing with Lexy._ Dean felt just a touch intimidated by her age and the ease with which Sam spoke with her, considering he barely knew her at all. _What if he goes to her with things that he thinks I'll tease him about? What if he needs advice? What if her advice is better than mine? _Dean bit his lip unintentionally, privately thinking that Sam needed the extra guidance and that she seemed to be more of a mother figure than anything else and it wasn't like **he **could be everything in Sam's life. _Screw honesty._

"So, um. What happened?" Sam asked, ignoring the weird look that had crossed over Dean's face.

"You're fine Sam." Sam was so busy heaving a sigh of relief, that he almost missed the rest of Lexy's words. "Well, no you're not really fine. Not even a little. You haven't been dealing with this **at all, **have you?"

He winced at her accusatory tone and really wished Dean wasn't staring quite as keenly as he was. Sam was tempted to leave for the bathroom to finish the call, but that would only raise Dean's already high suspicions. Sam chewed his lip. He was distracted, distressed, and didn't notice the way Dean's eyes flicked down to track the movement.

"No, not really. It's not a problem-"

"I don't suppose Dean knows?"

Sam felt faintly sick. Dean was so close that their chests brushed as Sam took a particularly deep breath. Dean was chewing the inside of his cheek, desperate to comfort Sammy, his body dragging him closer and closer. He'd never been good with words, not like Sam. He'd always taken comfort in physical closeness, small insignificant touches. He'd never thought too hard about it, but _maybe Sam doesn't think the way you do. Well, no maybes about it. What if he doesn't understand the touching thing? _Dean paused a moment in his thoughts to listen.

"You don't suppose correctly."

Lexy huffed a long, lamenting sigh, loud enough for even Dean to hear. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his spiky hair. He kept inching more and more into Sam's personal space. Dean vaguely wondered if Sam would mind if he just enveloped his brother in a hug and pressed his ear to the phone. Not that he'd be able to hear anymore than he could now. Sam had the volume on the phone lowered enough that he didn't really have to worry about Dean hearing Lexy's voice, but it was vaguely distracting to have him so close.

Sam hadn't thought about it before, but in the shower earlier, he'd been hungry and hadn't done anything besides perfunctory body washing. His libido was enjoying the heat he could feel radiating from Dean, then so close that they were sharing air. Sam twisted his mouth together, trying to focus his thoughts. He was getting to dislike Lexy being disappointed in him almost as much as Dean or their father.

"It's just that... I think it's better to not dwell on these things. I mean, it's fucked up. I can't deny that. Or the pain it caused, still causes every day. But, maybe just moving past it and trying to, I don't know, get on with things isn't such a bad idea?"

Sam's voice rose, turning what was supposed to be a definitive statement into a question. Despite his aversion to her advice, he wanted Lexy's approval. He was starting to treat her more and more like family, like Dean... just an older version of him. _One he didn't want to make out with._ And that was a whole other ball of thoughts that he didn't feel like unraveling at the moment. Not with Dean standing **right fucking there** anyway.

"Sam, obviously this is your choice. It won't help if I try to pressure you. Maybe you feel like you can't go to Dean right now and I get that. I am absolutely not one to judge in any way, shape, or form, but you guys obviously have a very complex relationship. It's just a fact that your relationships with **everyone **change around this age and Dean is certainly no exception. So, you have other things on your mind when you're with him or thinking about him and maybe that makes it awkward to discuss things of this nature. I promise you though, talking about events like this never gets any easier. Never.

I also sort of gather that you and your father don't really play the whole sharing and caring game, but even with that, just rehashing what happened with me isn't enough. It won't be. You barely know me. I'm sorry to pull out the age argument, but truly, when you're older you'll see just how dangerous keeping secrets, like this and other things, really is.

It's not just for your own sanity either. Things like this stick deeply in your subconscious, coming out at really inconvenient times. It hurts you and the people around you; the people you care about most. Moving on is fine advice, but only if you think that the event had so little impact on your psyche that you **can** just move on."

Sam heard the truth in her words, no matter how much he didn't want to. He closed his eyes.

"I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking."

Sam heard the line go dead; she'd said she was working later on today. Sam opened his eyes to a very concerned Dean.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dean asked hesitantly.

Sam sighed. "She's just...having a hard time. The abortion, you know?"

Dean nodded, looking sad. Sam was glad to note that Dean cared, even if the caring was evoked through a lie. It was good to have Dean's approval, necessary even. Because no matter how much he liked Lexy, Dean would always come first. Dean bit his lip, looking away.

"Uh, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Dean took a deep breath. Sam had the strangest feeling that this must be what Dean looks like whenever he's about to ask out a girl that he really likes. If that's ever happened. Sam wasn't sure that Dean ever made a move on anyone he really cared for. But really, _he had no business considering those types of things when it was addressed to him. Dean's his _**big brother. **_It's not like he'd ever be asking me out on a date or otherwise._

"You know that... well whenever I say, like, no chick flick moments, I don't really mean it if you really have something, I mean..."

Dean trailed off, looking at Sam hopefully. Maybe he wouldn't have to come out and say it, his little brother was a genius after all. A genius who was standing there, blinking owlishly at Dean. He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck and skimming his hand through his hair: his two most obvious tells of nervousness and uncertainty. Sam felt perplexed.

"You can always talk to me. If you need to, if it's serious you know? I wouldn't make fun of you or judge you or anything. Like, you can come to me, you know? I don't want you to think that I'm..."

Dean cut himself off before he really started rambling. Sam's face cleared and his eyes softened. It wasn't often that Dean made admissions like this, reminding Sam verbally how much he truly loved him. Sam gave him a small smile, feeling like utter refuse for not confessing everything right there and then, putting an end to the subterfuge and trying to resolve things, getting all of the hurt and want out in the open. But, just as Dean was too cowardly to say what he meant, so too was Sam; both afraid of how the other would react and of losing the one person who meant the world to him.

"Yeah Dean. I know."


	15. Love's Trickery

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Other colors represent characters' writing. Underlined words are the voices in Sam's head.

Saturday began with Sam reluctantly waking up. Reluctantly, because it was still dark outside and the only reason he was waking up was because he felt sick. He wasn't sure at first what was happening or why he'd woken up at all. He'd been in the midst of a terrifying dream featuring an anteater, pink elephants on parade, a lion and a tiger on an airplane and _clowns. Oh Jesus Christ, please no more clowns. _

Sam **hated** clowns. He always had. He also felt very uneasy about anteaters, and technicolor pachyderms were really too much for him. In any case, the nightmarish content left him pretty queasy, so imagine his surprise to find he was actually going to throw up. _Right fucking now._

Sam hauled ass out of bed to the bathroom, which luckily was only one door down the hallway from him. He did have to round the corner of the bathroom doorway though and did not manage to make it through without full-on slamming his poor body against the counter, before dropping to his knees and grasping the white porcelain like it was his only salvation. Sam emitted an awful noise, between retching and a howl [he'd accidentally knocked himself into the sink counter and because he was bent at an unfortunate angle, it was a hit below the belt]. If the mad dash hadn't woken Dean and alerted him to a problem, that terrible noise certainly did. Dean wrenched Sam's face back when he finally skidded in after his younger brother.

Sam was so distraught with everything that was happening and now _oh dear God. What if this was a sickness he'd picked up from a client? If having it automatically gave him away? _Sam was too disoriented to handle Dean possibly discovering his nighttime activities when Sam wasn't even coherent enough to defend himself or make an arguable case. Sam knew it was cliché, but seriously? **This was not fair.**

It seemed perfectly reasonable then, to try and kill himself. His stomach hurt badly, the nausea in his gut eating away at him from the inside. Between the awful physical feelings of being sick and wanting desperately to avoid Dean's disgust at what his little brother had become, Sam felt like death was probably a decent answer to his problems. Half-heartedly, Sam flushed the toilet, (thank goodness he managed to do that first) and shoved his face into the water. He felt his nose bump against the toilet bowl and felt himself rapidly inhaling water. He reasoned with himself that death was a pretty good alternative to the horror that was life and being alive was most likely overrated anyways. For a few seconds, Sam's vision started to dim. So when Dean yanked his face out, Sam spluttered and began coughing uncontrollably.

He spat out most of the water and some more of his stomach contents. He had a moment of shame, for a couple of things. First, there was the obvious shame of realizing he really just tried to kill himself over puking, which, in a long list of pathetic things Sam had done and was sure he would do, this one currently took the cake. Second, more in the strange category, was the fact that he was embarrassed at having Dean see him like this. Which really, was ridiculous. Dean had **changed his diapers**.

Dean had wiped his snotty little nose and potty trained him, back when Sam felt the need to wave bye-bye to his little brown hamsters before they ran down the potty tubes. Sam nearly shuddered. Of all the things Dean had been witness to, this was hardly worth mentioning. Sam was still blushing.

"What the hell Sam?"

Dean was holding his shivering brother by the shoulders, shaking him and ignoring the droplets of water that dripped all over them both. He couldn't process what was going on here. He'd been unceremoniously grabbed from the clutches of what had become quite a good dream (_and was rapidly headed in the direction of a fucking great one)_ and run into the bathroom in order to find his brother; throwing up and apparently trying to drown himself in the water. Now Sam was mumbling nonsense about Dean changing his diapers and blushing? Dean put the back of his hand to Sam's forehead.

Nope. He was delirious with fever. _Thank fuck._ He knew he shouldn't feel this relieved. Sammy was obviously very sick. But this meant that, _no, he wasn't really suicidal. Just doesn't know what's going on._ Dean didn't even want to examine why he thought Sam might be blushing. _Bulimia? Is that what it's called when people make themselves throw up? _

_Not like Sam needs that at _**all**. _He's so skinny. God so fucking small, wonder if he'll ever grow? God bet the girls don't even look at him, bet he hasn't done anything at all yet. Fuck. Tiny little thing. Bet he doesn't know the first thing about pleasure. Maybe just yanks on his dick a few times before he's coming; I didn't have any stamina back then. Could have like 20 orgasms in a day though. Man, those were some good times. _

_Wonder how big he is? He got modest all of a sudden a few months back, wonder if he's grown at all? Probably. Ha! I wonder if when he's getting himself off he tries to kiss the air like I did. He'd be so clueless kissing, just pressing his mouth there, or being manhandled wherever, stripped, just let himself be totally ravaged, not even knowing... _**Holy Fucking Hell**.

Dean could not believe the low he'd just sunk too. Hell had a special place reserved for people like him. Pedophiles, rapists, Child Services agents, Howard Hughes, and Dean Winchester. Here was Sam, shaking and grasping at Dean's sleep shirt and still wracked with coughs and here was Dean, fighting off a partial erection and the thought of his little brother's inexperience. _What is wrong with me?_ Dean half wanted to pull Sam to his chest and half wanted to shove him away and go for a long walk. In icy rain. Preferably with a blizzard on its way.

Sam's eyes widened and the rate of his hacking increased. He tried to cover his mouth, but when he pulled it away, Dean felt his stomach turn. It was small, but Sam was definitely coughing up blood.Dean didn't have to worry about sporting wood anymore.

"C'mon Sammy. Let's get you back into bed and get you some water, okay?"

He lifted Sam and let go briefly, only to catch him as his legs gave out and Sam sagged towards the floor again. Dean bit his lip and carefully picked Sam up, thankful he was small enough to carry. _Small enough for other things too_... Dean cut off his thoughts for the second time, focusing on just getting Sam into bed. He was going to pull the covers up to Sam's ears, judging by how his teeth were chattering, but decided against it in the end. He needed to get the fever down.

Dean arranged him on the pillows and didn't let Sam curl up on himself, feeling horrid when Sam merely sobbed once and didn't resist. He lay there, pliant and panting. Dean had to remind himself exactly why before he started actually molesting his brother. _Sam wouldn't even remember later. Just a few touches. _

_You know what you're doing. Right big brother? Gonna teach little baby Sammy the ways of the world? Gonna make him come so hard he can't remember how to say anything other than your name? He'd be so happy. Love you even more than he already does. It's been a little while since he looked at you with those big adoring eyes. Imagine those eyes half closed, glazed with lust for his big brother... _Dean fought the urge to puke, punch himself or both and turned away.

"Gonna get you some water."

He managed to get Sam to swallow some pills and drink a bit of water. Sam's eyes were glassy and he hadn't said anything in awhile. The shivering hadn't stopped, but it wasn't as rapid as it was before. Dean had no idea what had gotten Sam, but he figured it would turn out to be a bug that had him laid up for a few days. Nothing serious. _Hopefully._

Sam peered up at Dean, trying to follow what was happening around him. He hadn't felt this terrible in... years. It was Saturday though. He'd already told Sunshine that he'd be there tonight. He weighed his options. He found it significantly more difficult to focus with Dean sitting right there, watching him so carefully, like he was some fragile thing that could disappear in a puff of smoke. _Maybe go do handstands and cartwheels on the neighbor's fence. If he did them perfectly, the elephants would probably come back and he could show Dean and hopefully they wouldn't be pink again because he had a distinct feeling that Dean would infinitely prefer some green elephants._ Sam had a sudden vision of the elephants head-butting the fence, trying to knock him down. He giggled. _I'd be so _**IRRELEPHANT.**

Wait, hang on a second. He was supposed to be thinking about something important. Pondering. Pontificating even. BANGKOK! Yes, okay, he remembered now. _No way I can sneak out with Dean hovering the way he does. _Hopefully, he'd go out tonight. _And if he does? And comes to see you? And sees you're sick? What then?_

Sam shook his head at himself. He'd play it by ear. By his giant, flapping ears. Well, as an Eastern elephant anyway. _Or were they the ones with smaller ears?_ If he felt up to it, enough that he could hide it, then maybe. He fervently hoped that between the different medicines Dean had brought him something would work and he could make it. The bed shifted beside him. He tried to focus on the outline of Dean. Sam frowned. _Gotta tell them to leave the airplane at home. _

Dean needed to take an ice cold shower. If he was lucky he'd get frostbite on his dick and it would just fall off. Or maybe he'd cut it off. If this was how it was going to make him react when Sam needed him. When Sam was depending on him. When Sam needed someone to take care of him and well, it wasn't like their father was ever around to do shit. He had never felt so disgusted with himself.

_God Damn. My _**baby brother** _is sick and I'm perving on him over here._ Funnily, (or not so much in Dean's opinion), he kept getting so absorbed in thoughts of how he was _dirtysickbadwrong_ that he failed to notice the way his fingers were skimming over Sam's chest. He'd stripped off his sweatpants and shirt in another effort to bring down his temperature and because they were sweat-soaked. Sam was lying there in only his thin boxers. So far Sam either hadn't noticed or just hadn't said anything yet.

Dean recognized them as once having been his. He didn't want to know why that made his dick twitch, he just prayed Sam didn't see it. Dean made to stand, to just **move away**. In his distracted state, he didn't notice that his hand was sliding down Sam's stomach to a rather unmentionable area until it was too late. He was turning to the right and his fingers only just grazed Sam, but it was enough. Sam gasped, his back bowing and thrashing his head back into the pillows, shoving his hips up to maintain contact through the thin boxers he wore. Dean froze.

"Deee..."

Sam moaned, thrusting up again into Dean's hand, which still hadn't moved. The second time, Dean realized what was happening and bolted. He tore into the bathroom and slammed the door, almost knocking it off its hinges. He reeled, grasping at the counter to hold himself up. The poor bathroom was really getting the short end of the stick that morning.

He could hear some noises coming from Sam's room, but the blood was pounding so loud in his ears that they didn't really register. _OhgodohgodwhathaveIdone?_ He couldn't do this dammit! He smashed his fist into the wall next to the mirror, dully noting that his pinky was probably broken now.

At least sprained. He used the pain to ground him, clutching the sides of the sink. He made sure to cruelly grind the pinky into the countertop, hoping beyond hope that it was somehow connected to his cock and everything would be broken, except everything was already so broken, what the hell could he accomplish by breaking more? _What the _**fuck** _is wrong with me?_

Sam didn't know why Dean left for a moment. He was pretty out of it, which probably had something to do with all the medication Dean had made him swallow. Sometimes Dean overreacted to Sam being even a little sick and dosed him up so much he couldn't think. The pit of his stomach dropped through the floor when he understood what just happened. A low sob ripped out of his chest. _Nononononono I can't do this, can't do this!_

He had to get to Dean. Had to apologize, had to make this right. What if Dean hated him? What if he thought he was a monster? What if he'd never touch Sam again? Even as a brother? Sam felt the blood drain from his face as he sat up too quickly.

_What if Dean doesn't want to be my brother anymore?_ And that was just **it.** He couldn't take the suspense, not knowing if Dean was going to punch him or hurt him or anything. His tummy was twisted, his blood alternating between stopping cold in his veins and rushing, pushing at his skin. He was flushed and frigid. He rolled over, trying to get his feet underneath, but his knees gave out.

He hit the floor with a thud. He heard the sound distantly, knowing he'd made it, but was unsure why he'd expected pain. No pain could break through the endless screaming of _DEAN _in his head. Sam was weeping, clenching his hands into fists as he proceeded to crawl out into the hallway. He reared back onto his knees and tried the doorknob to the bathroom. It was locked. Sam choked on the renewed flood of tears that left him gasping. Dean was so angry.

_He has every right to be. Did you somehow forget what just happened? What you just fucking did? Whore. Slut. Perverted little freak. _He heard the clowns, singing and laughing maliciously. He looked around, frantically trying to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from. He realized he couldn't do shit about things that weren't real. God, they were so loud.

Think it'd be that easy? Think you could actually do something right? But you've always know. Always known why Dad prefers Dean so much. Because you're a fuck up. Tainted. Wrong in every way. Don't you remember? Don't you remember? Don't you? You should. 

Sam shook his head, trying to think. Hysterically, he wondered if Dean would just treat him like any other monster and just put him down? At least that way, neither of them would ever have to worry about this happening and maybe Dean would think he was possessed? _Yeah! I'll pretend I was possessed and he can exorcise me, or torture me, or however you get demons out and then everything will be okay again. He won't hate me and maybe he won't hurt me as much. If he thinks it wasn't really me._

I am perversion. Secret desire. I am your future. Swallowed up in fire. 

All hope rushed out of Sam's head when he heard the distinctive crack of a fist meeting a wall. _He knows. Oh God. He knows how awful and just WRONG I am. How I taint everything around me. What would it take? What do I need to do? For things to be quiet?_

Here I stand, foot in hand, talking to my wall. But, don't you remember? You had a great fall, with the madmen you see, and all in all you were just another brick in your wall, but all the kings' rabbits and the wide red sea, parted you martyr and now you're too small. All small. 

_He should get away before I get him too. I'm a disease. Something in my wires is crossed. He should hate me. Kill me. Or let me kill myself. Go away! Shut up! Shut up! Please! Shut! Up!_

The knights on the chessboard tell you where to go, Go ask who again? Judgement for immoral sin. They're right behind you, we're going to find you, find you, find you, take you away! Take you away! Pink elephants on parade!

Desperately, he wished he really had drowned in the toilet.Sam wailed, rolling over so his back was to the wall next to the doorway. He clutched at his knees as he tried to curl in on himself, trying to appear as harmless as possible. He had to get away. He couldn't let himself stay and infect Dean. Not perfect, pristine, wonderful, Dean.

Oh the red queen's off her head, off to bed my darling dear and off to bed for a week, a year. Hush hush, my baby, don't say a word, invite that queen for tea, you'll see! Nothing is ever too absurd.

At the noise, Dean opened the door. At first, he was confused: _Where's Sam?_ Then he saw him, bathed in salty tear tracks, bunched up and gazing up at him with blank eyes. Dean felt queasy.

He dropped down beside Sam who flinched. _Of course he's afraid of you. You just groped him. He probably finds you contemptible. Abhorrent. Despicable. _Dean felt hysterical laughter bubbling up as his mind tried to distract himself from the emotion roiling in his chest by listing as many adjectives for horrible he could think of. Except, none of that seemed to be the case.

Sam carefully tilted his head back. Dean didn't seem to understand the invitation. As soon as Dean appeared, the voices went silent. Sam's ears were ringing in the sudden quiet. Sam rushed to explain, focusing hard on making sure his words were coherent enough to get his point across.

"I-I-I won't fight. Promissss. W-won't fight you."

Dean just looked perplexed. Sam wondered if maybe he didn't want to dirty his hands by touching something so wretched _disgusting repulsive loathed revolting sick_ as himself. He looked around frantically, spying a hunting knife on a table in the living room nearby. He started crawling for it. Dean grabbed him and hauled him back.

"Sam, what're you-?"

Sam's eyes brimmed with fresh tears.

"P-p-please just make it quick okay?"

He stuttered, punctuating the sentence with a whimper. His body went completely pliant in Dean's hands. This time when he tilted his head back, Dean did understand and felt sick.

"Sam. Sam, it's okay. It's going to be okay."

Sam met his eyes and gave him a watery smile. In this light, Sam looked like a faded watercolor painting, one where the colors weren't dark enough to really stay within the lines and ran everywhere. There was utter trust and love in his eyes. _I know it'll be okay. Cause you're here._ Dean started coughing and choking on his own emotion, his throat swelling shut.

"Sam, not gonna hurt you."

He managed to rasp out. Sam looked at him for a moment, before cocking his head to the side and giving him another sad smile. Dean felt his heart shatter. Sam asked, ever so gently.

"Maybe a gun then?"

Dean had never wanted to kill himself before. Had never understood why anyone would give up being alive when so many other people didn't get that opportunity. Had scoffed and detested the people who did. Had never felt so horribly disgusted with himself in his life. Had never been so disappointed in himself. Wanted to end his life _rightfuckingnow._

He was so **pissed.** How could he have convinced his baby brother that the only option was death? In his anger at himself, he didn't notice at first how much he was shaking Sam or that he was saying any of this out loud. He finally glanced up and saw how rattled Sam looked, his eyes unfocused and slightly glazed over.

"God. Sam." Dean carefully wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him closer. Sam burrowed into his brother's warmth. Dean felt every inch of skin that was touching his, but he just brushed it off and held him tighter. Sam laid his head on Dean's shoulder after successfully climbing fully into his lap. He sighed and whuffled at Dean's neck, which was a bit ticklish.

Dean shuddered and finally acknowledged the intense throbbing in his pinky. He had to take care of Sam first.

"Sammy. Don't wanna hurt you, shit, or k-k-k-" Dean couldn't actually say it. "I'm not gonna leave you okay? I'm gonna take you back to bed so you can try and sleep this bug off. I just need to tape up my finger and then I'll come and sit with you or read with you or whatever you want. Anything you want. Anything."

Sam had already passed out against him, lulled to sleep by his heartbeat. Dean smiled and brushed the hair away from Sam's face. He was glad Sam wasn't awake to see him silently crying. He'd twist it so it was somehow all his fault. _Sometimes. I can have this sometimes. _

_I don't deserve it, but somehow I have it. How do I even?_ Dean brushed his lips over Sam's nose as he laid him down on top of the comforter. Sam made pained noises in his sleep until Dean came back, loaded with soft foods, books, and some bandages. Sam instinctively turned as the mattress dipped next to him and Dean smiled down at him again.


	16. Big Sin City

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: This chapter has been beta'd by the wonderful Miss Tammy!

WARNING:This chapter is a bit graphic and non-con (not between Sam and Dean). If that's an issue, just read the end to get a sense of what happened. There is also some purposeful mutilation done.

A few days later, when Sam had mostly managed to sleep off the medication and both of them were feeling far more composed, Sam decided to bring up the fact that he'd been watching Dean go stir crazy for the past two and a half hours. He went with the whiny brat routine.

"Deeeeeean!"

"What?"

"Stop fidgeting!"

Dean made a face. He was bored. He couldn't sit still for hours and hours on end like his brother and, also unlike his brother, he hadn't had a long nap today. It was nighttime and something about the dark always made his blood itch. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to go out, have a few beers, scam some money playing pool, maybe hook up with a cute girl... _Go see Sammi._

Well, that would be nice and all, but after this morning? He was **not leaving Sammy.** Sam seemed to sense this and sighed plaintively.

"Dean." Dean raised an eyebrow. "Look, just go out already!"

Dean had the decency at least to look affronted. Sam rolled his eyes hugely. "Don't even. I know you want to."

Dean drew himself up, assuming an air of total superiority. "Oh yeah?"

_Challenge accepted._ Sam could play this game too.

"Yep. You've been twitching and twiddling your thumbs making sure I'm okay." Sam softened his tone. "I'm okay Dean. Really. I'll still be okay in the span of a few hours while you get drunk and fuck some chick."

Sam was not going to talk about how that statement made jealousy careen through his belly. Dean looked shocked.

"Language Sammy!"

"Oh yeah, cause you're not mister potty-mouth."

"Whatever asshat."

Sam was annoyed. He felt sort of bad for bringing this one up because he **knew** it would send Dean running, but he really couldn't deal with him being so obnoxious anymore. Sam carefully did not listen as the small voice in the back of his head also chipped in that; _this way he won't be fidgeting and you both can get your rocks off. _Sam tried to rationalize that Dean might not even go to Bangkok. _Of course he will. _

Sam pursed his lips briefly. His bantering tone was gone.

"Seriously. Go have some fun tonight."

"Sam-"

"You obviously need to get laid."

And there it was. Sam was inspecting the coverlet as he twisted it between his fingers. His face was red and he sounded... Dean wasn't exactly sure. It was enough though. Clearly, Sam thought that Dean was too horny for his own good and needed to do something about it.

Dean's heart clenched unpleasantly. Sam saw the expression he wore.

"Dean." Sam's voice would always stop him in his tracks. "Just, enjoy yourself."

He sounded so sad. Dean had both feet in his boots and was opening the door to leave when he heard Sam again.

"Come home soon?"

_God he sounded so little and dejected, like his brother was leaving him when he needed him most. But wasn't he the one that sent me off?_

"Yeah, Sammy. Be back been in a few."

Sam got dressed and out of the house quickly after that. He stumbled and needed to rest frequently; he hadn't slept off as much of the drugs as he would have preferred, but business was business and he had a bus to catch. As Dean drove aimlessly, trying desperately not to head for Bangkok, he was suddenly struck by an unsettling thought. _What if Sammy was testing me? I don't know why he would, but he really didn't seem enthusiastic to see me go. _

For a minute, Dean almost turned around and headed straight back. He bit his lip. He did have aggression he needed to burn off. Sam wasn't wrong about that. Dean pulled the Impala into a random parking lot while he thought.

It was never a good idea to have deep thoughts while driving your father's black car in the dark and an even worse idea when gas prices were so unreasonable. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back, trying to clear all thoughts. He glanced into the back seat, when something ratty and red caught his eye. It was one of the warmer blankets that he and Sam fought over when they had to sleep in the car. Dean grinned.

_I guess we won't be able to fit back there together forever. Someday, Sam might decide to grow. _Dean shrugged. They'd always find some way to fit. They weren't shy about their personal space or anything, so even if Sam grew up to be a sasquatch, Dean snickered, they'd fit.

_Bet you will. Bet you'd love to have any size of Sammy all spread out beneath you on the leather, hair fanning out around his head. One leg over the seat back and the other cramped in the footwell and he'd be pleading with you to just _**touch him already**, _but you'd just feast your eyes for awhile, trail your finger tips over his chest, press kisses everywhere..._

Dean groaned, hard enough to pound nails, hips hitching up of their own volition. Yeah, he definitely had some spare energy to burn. He finally gave up fighting his instincts and turned the Impala in Bangkok's direction. He didn't even pause on his way to the door. The tiny Asian woman was always the one who let him inside.

In other, similar establishments, he'd seen the same system. They were all fierce little women; he'd learned that the hard way. Many of the girls, and boys, who worked at their fine establishments were either practiced in the art of fighting or carried a handy weapon so bodyguards were an unnecessary expense. He'd been here enough times that the bartender and the woman, Sunny? Sunshimmer? called him Mr. Smith, the name he used here.

Mr. Dean Smith. It actually had a nice ring to it, come to think of it. He vaguely wondered why. The room was fairly empty. It was a little later than he usually showed up, or what his usual had become anyways.

He figured most of the girls had already wrangled clients into back rooms. He mentally shrugged and sauntered up to the bar, flashing the bartender a toothy grin. He was attractive and not dressed femininely at all. Actually, he was barely dressed. He had rich dark skin that set off his unusually purple eyes.

He wasn't as tall as Dean and more wiry, but his muscles rippled and, in his outfit of billowing sapphire pants and no shirt, the tattoos on him flowed gracefully with his movements. He gave a small smile to Dean in return.

"What can ah get ya?"

His voice was unexpected deep for a man of his stature and sounded like he was from somewhere south of Mexico. Dean recognized one of the nebulous tattoos as being an obscure Haitian voodoo symbol, though of what, he wasn't sure.

"Just a beer please. Also, um, do you know if Delilah is here tonight?"

The man reached underneath the counter for a beer, flipping it to the other hand and pulling the top off with a bottle opener that materialized in his hand. Dean was impressed. The guy grinned as he slid the beer to Dean.

"Not sure. Not seen 'er though."

Dean felt his stomach sink a little. He'd really been looking forward to seeing her. She got his heart racing like no one he'd ever met. Well, almost no one. He amended it to _no one I've ever been with. Happy?_

His subconscious did not deign to answer. He almost decided to leave, but he had a beer and a hot bartender and well, maybe Kitty would be here tonight. Dean sipped his beer and tried to think happy thoughts. He licked his lips self-consciously when he caught the bartender eyeing him and got a leer for his troubles. _Tonight can't be all bad._

Except it was. Right as he was having that optimistic idea, (and really, shouldn't he have **learned **by now?), a woman -man?- he didn't recognize came storming from the back. She was mostly naked. Dean tried to be a gentleman and not outright stare. He just peeked surreptitiously. She was very pissed.

"You know what? No! I do not have to put up with your shit!"

The man who she was arguing with was holding a glass of red wine and gesticulating with said hand. The bartender looked worried.

"You don't have to put up with MY shit? You're a fucking whore, Lilly!"

Lilly got up in the man's face. It would have been comical if it hadn't been a screaming match: Lilly was almost six feet tall and the man was barely 5'6. He looked over at the bartender, about to say something, when Lilly smacked him. Unfortunately, that prompted him to try and grab her hand to stop her from hitting him again and he just so happened to use the hand that had been holding the glass. Had been, because the aforementioned glass went soaring through the air and managed to dump most of its contents all over Dean's pants. Dean sighed.

The bartender raced around to sweep up the glass shards and Dean got up to get out of his way. He took some napkins and tried to dry himself as much as possible, but decided to try the bathroom. He had a faint memory of his mother telling his father off because; _Red wine stains! It doesn't come out just like that!_

Dean was willing to try anyway. The fighting couple didn't even notice their audience being splattered and then leaving. Dean muttered some choice words as he strolled to the bathroom. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He muttered some more and rocked back and forth on his heels.

He just wanted to mop up so he wouldn't stain the Impala and get back to Sam. Sam, who was sick in bed while he was out taking a bath in cheap wine. This night was a disaster. While lamenting, Dean heard a strange noise coming from inside the bathroom. It sounded slightly strangled.

Logically, it was probably someone who had a water sports fetish (Dean shivered and not in a good way), but something seemed off. His hunter instincts were on high alert and he unconsciously felt for the knife from his boot. He heard the noise again and leaned his ear to the crack. The door was not stable on its hinges and so there was a small space where the door was unable to muffle the sounds from within completely. Dean grit his teeth.

"St-p!"

That was his cue. Doesn't matter what the profession, stop means stop. Dean wedged his shoulder against the door and gave it a mighty shove. It burst open, taking some wood off of the frame it was precariously resting on. Dean was horrified.

Sammi was on the floor, propped up on the far wall. A huge man was crouched down next to her, holding a small handgun to her temple in one hand. Sammi was holding her ankles, keeping her legs spread while her panties had been shoved into her mouth as a gag. Dean's gaze swept down and the world shifted beneath his feet. He staggered forward a little.

The man had a knife and had been using it to slice tiny marks on the sensitive skin of Sammi's balls. Dean felt the half beer he'd drunk try and resurface. He pushed it down with an amazing force of will. Apparently, his busting in had disoriented the man. Dean felt detached from himself suddenly.

Tunnel vision closed in, _I didn't think this was literal_, and seriously, there is a darkness obscuring most of his sight. There is a hole in the middle though, focused on Sammi and **dead man walking.** No sooner had he thought the words to himself than he was roaring, louder and more savagely than he'd ever heard from a human's tongue, launching himself at the man. He yanked him up by his shirt first, but he tore the shirt with the force of his grasp. He went for the man's throat next. He was saying something, something about all the ways in which he would torture this man, not let him die quick and easily. Dean didn't even see Sammi anymore.

Sam watched as Dean lost his mind.

Dean has snatched up the man's knife, is using it to draw lazy runes in cuts varying in depth on his chest. The man was gasping and struggling, trying to push Dean away, but nothing worked. He actually clocked Dean so hard that he broke some fingers, but Dean didn't even react to the pain. He did purposefully slice both nipples efficiently off of the man. He'd been weeping and getting snot and blood everywhere. Dean dully felt something like wetness against his pants and glanced down to see that the man has pissed himself.

Sam can't do much more than watch.

The tiles around them were coated in a sickly substance, the mixture of tears, sweat, mucous, urine, and blood, spreading out with reaching tendrils. The slick of bodily fluids slid soundlessly across the floor, seeping through the open doorway where finally, **finally**, someone had come to do something. To make it stop. _Oh God, please make it stop. I just want this to stop. _

Somewhere in his fervent wishing, Sam began speaking aloud. Dean's head jerked up at the noise, however inaudible.

"Please. Stop. Please. I. Can't do this. Please. Please. I'll do anything. I'll be so good for you. I can be so good. Do anything. Please. Please. Just. Make it stop."

Dean's mind vaguely processed the words and sent an alarmed signal throughout his body, paralyzing his limbs. The man he was strangling choked a little as Dean's hand relaxed minutely. Dean tried to remember where he was and why something was keeping him from finishing what he'd started. What he so clearly needed to complete. _Why wasn't he_ **killing this guy?**

His gaze fell on Sammi. She was still crouched against the wall, where he'd left her. Her legs were bent at the knees and on the ground, sitting in a way that required immense flexibility and just looked damn uncomfortable. She'd managed to rearrange her dress somewhat, covering the important parts anyway. Covering the injuries that _you let her get. _

_That you let this man give her._ Dean's head jerked, wanting so badly to turn towards the guy and just _endthisrightfuckingnow._ Somehow, he managed not to, managed to hold himself back. He kept his gaze locked on Sammi.

Sammi's white face make up was smeared around the eyes. She had eyeliner pooling underneath and he couldn't tell if it was because he'd hit her or if it was from crying. The tear tracks hadn't had a chance to dry yet and the blood on her wrists from where she'd been digging her nails into her flesh, oozed in crescent shaped cuts. Her hair had escaped from its normally pristine do. Dean reached a hand out for her, thinking to help her up, but was confused when her eyes filled with fresh tears and she pressed herself further into the wall.

Further away from him. Dean blinked. Once. Twice. Realized he was extending the hand brandishing the knife. His hand opened and the knife clattered to the tile, the noise echoing loudly. The room had been otherwise silent, exempting all three of their heaving breaths.

The tiny Asian woman from the door came barreling in at that moment, followed closely by a woman wielding a first aid kit. Dean moved to take the first aid kit, already thinking through how to treat Sammi's injuries. He was _handling this, godammit! _The woman turned to fix an icy stare on him.

"Get out."

Dean's face shoved forward on his neck, ogling her without comprehension.

"No, I wasn't the one who-"

"Maybe not, but you're the one covered in blood choking someone and generally looking crazed."

Dean tilted his head to get a glimpse of himself in a mirror. He couldn't disagree with her assessment. He nodded firmly and walked out, dragging the man, still pleading for his life, _as if he had any hope at all_, behind him. He felt vaguely bad for tracking all of that blood and other fluids everywhere, but figured since it wasn't carpeted, it would be fairly easy to clean up. Hell, he'd clean it up.

Sam watched as Dean abruptly left, his movements robotic and uncaring. His muscles were all tensed and even though he strode in an easy manner, no one in their right mind would approach him. He appeared deranged. Frankly, _he probably is right now._ Sam couldn't really blame him. He'd never be able to justify any actions he might take if the situation had been reversed. In any case, he still reached out, making a small sound in the back of his throat. He'd been initially relieved that Dean was taking **that man **away, but now it struck him that **Dean was gone too. **He lurched, trying to stand, get up, _go after Dean. Dean, wait. Don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I won't do it again. Please. Please._

"Please. Please!"

Sam was racked with violent tremors. He was alternating between wordlessly sobbing and screaming for Dean to come back. That he didn't mean it. That he could make it up to him. That he'd do anything. Anything at all. Sam dimly registered that he was being restrained, but didn't come back to reality until he felt a sharp sting lancing from his groin outwards. They'd hiked up his skirt and daubed iodine on the cuts, making sure they wouldn't get infected in such a tender spot.

Sam lost all will to fight and went pliant in their arms. His throat felt scratched, like he'd never be able to manage anything above a hoarse whisper again. He lay there, whimpering weakly. Dean ultimately had figured out the best punishment. He'd spent a good five minutes debating whether it was even worth keeping this guy alive for more torture, but in the end his brutal side won out. Dean grinned wickedly. There was nothing human in that smile. The man blanched.

"Take off your pants." Dean added as an afterthought. "Sir."

The man did so quickly. He wasted no time, shivering in the cold of the night, bare and bloody before Dean. Dean leaned forward and cups the man's cock and balls, almost gently, before bringing another knife, cleverly concealed in his boot for all occasions, to bear on the sensitive skin. The man's howl was unearthly. Dean looked disgustedly down at the now unattached genitals, before heaving them away into a dumpster. He wiped his hand on his pants before evaluating the man. He figured he'd either get to a hospital and spend the rest of his life in agony or die here on the street because, _fuck, that is a lot of blood._

Dean spun on his heel, before going back inside. He wouldn't waste anymore of his time with that scum of the earth. He'd done his duty in punishing him, but there were more pressing matters to be attended to. His mind wandered through indeterminate thoughts.

Later on, maybe tomorrow or the next day, his body would make him pay for his actions. He knew that and accepted it. He'd probably be sick for the next few days at least. Not with guilt, just worry. _As if you didn't know what you were capable of before. _He thought about how he was torn between shutting off feeling or just drinking until he couldn't feel anymore. Dean inhaled deeply. _One thing at a time, Winchester._

Dean froze in the middle of the room. People were staring at him. Like he'd done something wrong _he had,_ like he was the monster, _he was, _like he was responsible for this whole mess, _definitely. _He looked down to find that his hands were shaking. He didn't remember wiping off the knife and replacing it in his boot, but he could feel it snugly in place. _What if this was the wrong thing to do? I should have thought this through! I just couldn't think. I hardly know Sammi and she just saw me..._

Dean cringed. The emotions he'd kept at bay swamped him. His knees threatened to buckle beneath his weight. He half turned and saw that the guy was **still fucking there.** Logically, a small part of Dean knew that he had only just walked inside and after dealing such a horrific wound, the guy would be lying there bleeding for a good long while, most likely unable to move. But Dean wasn't thinking logically. The rage rose up again, having receded only to crest into a new wave, crashing over him. Rage was good. Rage obscured the other emotions that he didn't know how to deal with.

His gun was in his hand and he was making a beeline for the door again when he felt a small hand rest on his arm. There was nothing gentle about it. Dean stopped.

"She needs comfort. She needs someone she can trust. Not a murderer."

The rage drained out of him as quickly as it had come. He sagged under the loss of it. The adrenaline was cooling down and his veins weren't liquid fire. He secured the gun and didn't bother looking down at the Asian woman.

"Where is she?"

Her voice was hard, bordering on cruel. "Right where **you left her.**"

Dean closed his eyes slowly. When he opened them, she was gone. He headed back inside and winced as he heard Sammi's voice. He followed it to the bathroom. Sammi was laying on the floor, weakly resisting the attempts of the people around her to help move. Dean walked closer, hating himself more with every step. Sammi's eyes were shut and she was whimpering softly.

"Wait, wait. Lemme stay. He's coming back. He'll be right back. You can't take me. I have to be here. It won't take long, he'll be right back, be right back, he comes back, he has to come back, he wouldn't leave me. If 'm not here, he won't see me. He has to see me. 'm waiting for him. Gotta wait..."

Sammi's body was wracking itself with great shudders. Dean crouched down next to her, nodding at the others around him. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, lifting her bridal style off of the filthy floor. Dark thoughts of how that man must have thought _Sammi was so sexy, all tiny and sobbing and bleeding such small droplets messed around his pale thighs, making some lube maybe for later... _Dean was shaking as he stood. Sammi was still struggling, mewling gently.

"Shhhh, shhh, Sammi. Sammi. It's me. It's Dean. It's okay. It's going to be okay now."

Sammi immediately went limp in his arms. The shaking toned down to just shivering. Dean carried her out to the sofa and sat down, draping himself around her and rocking her slowly, trying to remember how his mother used to rock him when he was so very small and so very scared of everything. Someone brought him a blanket to wrap her in. Dean never wanted to let her go.

He tried to convince the Asian woman to let him, at the very least, drive Sammi to her home, make sure she was safe. The woman, Sun she said her name was, declined gently, shaking her head. Dean nodded and tried to talk a little with Sammi, explain things. She seemed so disoriented.

"Sammi, hey there. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Sammi shook her head mutely. Dean hesitated, before bowing his head.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

Sammi's voice was raw and scratchy. A record that hadn't just been over played, but had been handled indelicately, tossed around like a piece of trash, not cared for properly. Dean felt a tear slip down his cheek.

"Being like that. Hauling out my knife and just going off on him and t-t-torturing-"

Dean broke off, gasping. He suddenly could barely get any air into his lungs. He didn't process anything for a second, but then Sammi's hand was on his face and tenderly wiping away the tear. Dean turned his head and nuzzled into the soft palm stroking him lightly. He murmured into Sammi's hand: "I don't deserve this kind of comfort. I'm a monster."

"No Dean. **He** was the monster. You **saved me.**"

Dean kept shaking his head no, breathing in Sammi's scent and unwillingly calming down. He tried in vain to hold onto the panic, the self-hatred, the guilt that he was so accustomed to always bearing on his slumped shoulders. Without that guilt, other people would look at him and see the overcompensation of how he throws back his shoulders, looking overly cocky without the guilt to weigh down his forced buoyancy. Finally, after much coercion to both parties, someone removed Sammi from his arms and took her downstairs.

Sun asked Dean to "Help me clean up this fucking mess." in a tone which brooked no argument. Dean had nodded hollowly. He vowed to himself to try and get Sammi's phone number or address. He knew that what he was feeling for her was something special. Something different. Something to be kept safe. He cleaned, thorough and silent, half in shock from the events, what he'd done, what he'd felt (or rather what he **hadn't felt**), and how Sammi had taken it. _Almost like... it had happened before._


	17. Elegies of Punks Angels & Raging Queens

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: This chapter has been beta'd by the lovely Miss Tammy!

Sam had been taken home by a man, whose name he wouldn't remember later. He'd been undressed, had his false hair taken out, and been mostly cleaned up before he was taken home, with strict instructions to call Lexy the next day. He had heard Sun asking Dean to help clean up and knew he'd have enough time to get himself showered and situated in bed before Dean stumbled in.

Neither of them had much to say the next day and Dean didn't go out that night. Or the next. Both of them were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to notice the other one not saying much. They both spent an inordinate amount of time staring at empty walls, the blank T.V. screen, not even bothering to turn it on, knowing there was nothing on that could hold their interest.

Sam actually found himself vaguely wishing that school was in session, just so that he'd have some homework. Not that he particularly wanted to go anywhere, much less to be immersed in a sea of idiotic stereotypes, hell bent on making Sam's life even more miserable than normal. When Sam caught Dean reading Pride & Prejudice, one of the couple of books that was left behind by the last tenants, Sam had to lock himself away in the bathroom for a few minutes. His sudden chuckle had turned rapidly into hysterical laughter, emotions he was trying so hard to suppress bubbling up against his wishes. He was sort of nervous as he unlocked the door and ventured out that Dean would have noticed, _how could he not? Not getting off the hook this time..._ and, yet, he hadn't.

Or if he had, he didn't say anything. Sam couldn't decide whether he was feeling was relief at the small mercy of putting off the inevitable or a strange sense of jealousy and unhappiness that he was suddenly so unimportant in Dean's life. He chided himself maliciously, reminding himself that Dean had other priorities. Sam had waited until Dean went out to fill up on some groceries, not that they were eating much, to call Lexy.

"Sam?"

"Yeah." His voice rasped from disuse.

"What happened?"

"I was, um, attacked."

Lexy swore violently. "What the fuck happened?"

"This guy, um he caught me by surprise. He took me, ah, into the bathroom. He well..."

"Sam. I know this is hard. Really. But you gotta tell me what happened."

Sam was weeping, staring at the wall in front of him, curled up at the foot of the couch. The tears left fresh tracks and only served to increase the headache that had been pulsing for the past couple of days.

"Let's try something easier. When did this happen?"

Sam gulped, trying to steady himself.

"Three nights ago." Sam felt guilt swamp him for not calling her earlier. "I-I-I'm ssssorry. I should have c-c-called you before, but-"

"Sam. It's ok."

Sam stopped stuttering in the phone. He tried to take a few calming breaths, focusing on the count of inhaling and exhaling. _one, two, three, four, hold, one, two, three, four._ Lexy heard him, so she waited until she felt he was more able to carry on a coherent conversation.

"Okay Honey. You're alright. Did he hurt you? Do you need a hospital?"

"Um yes. No. I mean, yes I got hurt, but it wasn't very bad and someone there patched me up."

"This happened at Bangkok?" Sam bit his lip. "Damn. That's a first."

Sam laughed, a little hysterically. "Of course, I'd be that first. No reason not to be."

"Sam."

Lexy's voice had a low quality, warning him away from that destructive train of thought before it got chugging too far along. Sam huffed a few more times before his chuckles trickled away, just more drops into the puddle he'd made on the couch.

"Can you tell me what happened exactly?"

Sam blushed hard and toyed with part of a spring sticking out of the side of the couch while answering.

"He um, gagged me. And took a knife to my uh. Balls."

He heard Lexy hiss through the phone and squeezed his eyes shut, letting a few more tears leak out. He sniffed, trying to keep from getting snot all over his face. He got up and went quickly for the bathroom, getting some tissues and resuming his sitting on the couch with the tissues, to mop his face and his seat.

"Oh Sweetheart. I'm so sorry, sweet thing."

Sam nodded, just comforted by the sound of her breathing through the line. Actually, saying it out loud helped somewhat. Not completely, he still recognized it as a truly traumatic experience, but saying it, confirming that yes, this happened and yes, I survived, helped. _Dean's the reason I survived and I'll never forget that. He just keeps saving me over and over and over. _

Sam stayed on the phone with Lexy for a little while, letting her offer comfort before he hung up and took a long, scalding shower. Even after talking, he still felt so incredibly **dirtygrossdisgustingrepulsiv e** that he just scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was red and raw, sensitive to even a puff of air. He went to sleep, even though it was early afternoon, and didn't wake up again that day.

Dean may have found it sort of strange that Sam hadn't even been awake for four hours before returning to bed, but he was still preoccupied with his self-hatred to really do more than make note of it. He wrote a post-it to himself to get them back on some kind of training schedule, figuring it wouldn't do to let either of them get too out of shape. They'd sure get an earful from Dad if that happened. Although, it almost looked like Sam was losing weight recently. It occurred to Dean that he hadn't seen Sam eat or even heard him talk in three days.

He peeked into their bedroom, heart thumping erratically for some reason. Sam was still passed out, exactly where he was when Dean had checked _less than five minutes ago you idiot, where the Hell else could he have gone without you hearing?_ Though, Dean hadn't been noticing very much of anything outside of his own mind lately. Who knows what was going on with Sam? Dean felt somewhat ill. _Was something wrong? Had something happened to Sam? Maybe the night I...well. _

Dean skimmed through his mind, trying to recall the night he'd spent the last few days trying to forget. _I didn't get back until the sun was coming up. So _some thing_ easily could have happened then. But, wouldn't Sam have said something? _Dean uneasily tried to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that Sam had tried, maybe more than once, to say something, but Dean hadn't heard. He'd been too selfishly wrapped up in things he couldn't change and that he'd already been absolved for by the one person in that situation who'd really mattered.

Dean was leaning against the doorframe the whole time, gazing unseeingly at Sam's back from where he lay semi-curled in the fetal position towards the far wall. Dean frowned. That wasn't normal. Sam either slept on his back or on his stomach, like he did. No one in their family had ever favored side positions in sleep. Dean stepped carefully, crawling up onto his own bed and laying back against the headboard, trying in vain to minimize the creaking of the bed frame. It didn't seem to bother Sam though.

Because of how deeply buried in his thoughts he'd been, Dean had slept more deeply the past couple nights than he could remember having done in years. The result of which was that he hadn't woken up to Sam's diminutive sobs or horrifically choked off howls provoked by nightmares that Sam didn't remember the next morning. He felt the drain of them; had little appetite, developed dark circles under his eyes, and a sallow pallor to his skin. The nightmares had ceased to be clowns though. They were memories now.

_Sam was running. Behind him was the man who had just taken advantage of him, tying him up and cutting, deeper, deeper, deeper, the bathroom's walls were dripping in redredred blood. He was still running. His feet were wet. Don't look down. Sam looked down. He slid on the slick surface, crashing hard into the floor, knocking his head into the floor. The blood matted his hair, making it stick in all directions. Just waiting to be grabbed, for his whole body to be hauled, kicking, struggling..._

"No! No! Not again. Please. Please. What else do you want?"

_Oh I think you know. This isn't about me. It's a shadowy figure, still dragging him along. The bathroom has morphed into an endless hallway. Sam's naked and bound, blindfolded. He's still being pulled by his hair, his body sliding over the gushing surface. He shuddered and couldn't stop. It was warm, bathwater. Sam tried to even out his breath. The man's grip changed, hauling him now by the throat. Sam couldn't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe._

"I'll do anything. Just stop. Please. Please! PLEASE! **PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE! You've got to stop."**

'_This isn't about me silly boy. Or should I say girl? Whore? Wretched little harlot? Mmhmm, bet you just can't wait to finally tell Dean. Hope he'll take pity on you, maybe keep you around for a while to fuck. Except, you can't even manage that, now can you?' Sam felt a phantom finger circling his entrance. He was writhing on the ground, covered in the redredred blood, dripping, glistening all over him, sending his sharp angles and planes into stark relief. He knew he looked the part. 'That's right. You do. Because it's always been your fault. Everything has been, will continue to be. Why do you think Dean looks so goddamned sad all of the time? He tries so hard to raise you right. He's given up everything for you. And how do you repay him? Like THIS.'_

Sam was whimpering and thrashing against an invisible grip. Dean had unconsciously yanked out his gun and cocked it, searching wildly around the room for something anything to shoot at, to make it stop, to make Sammy's pain stop, to **Protect Sammy.** His instincts were screaming at him. Do something! DO SOMETHING NOW!

"Noooo... Not that. Anything but that. Please. It hurts."

Dean felt his fingers unclench. The gun dropped to the floor with a thunk. Sam didn't move.

"My mouth... it's better. Please. You'll like it. Promise. I'll make it goo-"

Sam cut himself off, arching his back up, his toes curling inwards towards the soles of his feet. Dean heard his joints pop with the force of the movement. The moan that came from Sam sounded like nothing Dean had ever heard. It wasn't a cry that he'd heard from monsters in the dead of night. It wasn't the sound of something enjoyable, someone who was seeing the light. It was cold and it was broken. Sam was broken.

Dean keened and practically leapt onto Sam's bed, restraining him. From the closer vantage point, he could see that Sam had been furiously scratching at his arms. The skin was red and irritated. He could see the white lines of nail marks and a few of them were bleeding. Dean hissed in sympathy before realizing that Sam had gone completely still. Dean wasn't even sure...he leaned down, pressing his ear to Sam's mouth, listening desperately for something, a sign of life, a breath.

"Oh."

Dean melted in relief. He covered Sam like a distraught blanket and felt Sam settle beneath him, find a more comfortable position, and exhale softly. Dean curled his body around Sam's, making sure he was touching every part of him, keeping him in as close of contact as he could. Sam made some low noises, the last one turning into a yawn. Dean squirmed and they both moved around until they found a comfortable fit. Sam was still the perfect size for his face to fit into Dean's neck and Dean would never admit how much he loved burying his face in Sam's hair. It was just so soft and (_he was never going to let Dad make him cut it_) smelled fresh, no matter how dirty or sweaty Sam was.

_What the Hell had he been dreaming about? When he was talking there, at the end, about his mouth and making it so good and-_ Dean had to cut himself off before he started getting hard. The very last thing he needed was a reason to wake Sam up. Probably terrify him, have a repeat performance of before. It nagged at Dean, the words and the way Sam had sounded saying them. He couldn't place what about it was so wrong. He bit his lip. He wasn't sure he had the strength to talk to Sam about this. He fervently hoped it was something that could resolve itself, though deep down he knew it wasn't likely. He curled tighter around his baby brother.

Sometimes, the ferocity with which he wanted to devour Sam, just absorb him into his body sort of scared Dean. Like that process Sam had explained to him a little while back. That he was learning last year in science. What was it called? Mitosis? No, something else -osis. Ozymandius? Wait, that was a person. Osmosis**. **Yes, that was it. Normally, Dean would have told himself that it was a weird thing for an older brother to want, would have extracted his body from Sam's clutches and moved away to his own cold bed _it's better that way, so you're not crowding him, won't do something else you'll regret, not like you need any more regrets Winchester. _Not tonight. They both slept soundly, neither having any more dreams.


	18. Belle of Bond Street

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

ALSO: Trying desperately to keep up with the updating once a week schedule. I just finished writing the rough draft of chapter 21, so I'm sort of managing to keep up. However, the end is in sight! There will be 30 chapters in all. So, you're more than halfway there!

ALSO ALSO: I have been trying to find a beta reader. For some strange reason, this is next to impossible. I will continue to look, but if anyone would like to, or knows someone who'd like to, that would be amazing. To go over previous chapters and stuff like that. Yup.

Dean Winchester was not nearly as much of a rebel as he tried to get people to believe. He wasn't the perfect 'Daddy's little soldier' that Sam thought he was either though. Sometimes, when he was pretty stressed out or trying too hard to impress a girl, he'd smoke. He'd long ago mastered the choking wheeze that tried to rear its smoky head whenever he wrapped his lips around one of those cancer sticks and if their father had ever bothered with yearly check-ups for his boys, Dean would have been sorely disappointed in himself to be diagnosed as slightly asthmatic. He'd inherited it from his paternal grandfather, not someone he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

If John were to think about it, he'd remember his father telling him once that it always skipped a generation in the Winchester family and only ever got the oldest son, which was sort of a weird way for a disease to pass itself along, but whatever. John wasn't likely to think on that type of thing, so it hardly mattered. Plus, although he completely sympathized with people needing their little vices and habits, he was not a big fan of cigarettes, commenting how if a man was going to smoke, he ought to smoke a cigar. But cigars were only for rich pigs who ate too much and grinned those disgusting, silky grins and swindled everyone out of their own family. No, men ought to just chew tobacco. Dean had tried that and it had been very painful so he figured it wasn't worth it. It would be a lot easier to just hide the occasional smoke from his father.

Sam made the mistake of trying snuff one time, which in and of itself was actually an enjoyable experience and Sam would have done it again gladly, except Dean had found out about it and teased him mercilessly for the next couple of weeks. After every meal, Dean would ask in an awful British accent if Sam would like some fine port, very vintage, to round out his meal and whether the food was rich enough for His Excellency's taste buds. Sam was sick and tired of it by the third day and loudly vowed never to go near the shit again. Other than tobacco and alcohol, the Winchester boys stayed away from drugs for the most part. They weren't stupid and they didn't need an expensive, much less potentially dangerous, habit on their hands.

Although, Dean was never opposed to one or two puffs on a joint, he could count on one hand the number of times he had actually been high. Three had been on purpose. The second had been an accident; not because he didn't _want _to be high, but because he didn't know what a gravity bong was and when some pretty girl used it like it was nothing, his masculinity would have taken a serious blow if he'd backed down. It had been a bit intimidating and he was so stoned afterwards that he didn't even notice that she was laughing at him, coughing and spitting up slightly into the grass next to the tiny kiddie pool of the bong. Down the line, Dean would find himself on much friendlier terms with weed and, very occasionally, shrooms, but at 16, he had no real inclination.

And, unlike Sam who would learn about things just for the sake of knowing, what Dean wasn't interested in, he usually didn't have a clue about. So far, that hadn't been a problem. That was before Bangkok.

Bangkok itself was situated in the nicest, seedy neighborhood for 100 miles. That didn't really say much in the place's favor. People only went there for specific needs and if they stayed, it was never their choice. Or, if it was, they weren't cognizant of their surroundings enough to understand that this was not a nice part of town.

Within it though, there were sections and in every section, one place or building was usually better funded (and therefore a little nicer) than the others. Once upon a time, the entire neighborhood had housed Asian immigrants. Everyone who could get out did, and everyone who couldn't snatched up the nearest buildings and started businesses. By the time Sam and Dean found themselves there, quite a few of the original businesses were still in existence, but there were a couple major families who owned the Districts (as the locals shudderingly referred to them) and all the businesses were expected to pay tribute of some sort. Or else, they didn't stay in business.

Each District encompassed about three blocks, give or take one, and had symbols painted on the lampposts and buildings to designate the area. Wherever a person was, assuming they were familiar with the system and if they weren't, they probably weren't going to see the sunrise, they could look around and know immediately whose territory they were marching in and whether they should get the fuck out. Every District had drugs, sex for hire, bars, and gambling halls, but each District also had a certain specialty. Bangkok belonged to the District known to the locals as Dan Pah, which was owned by a prominent Thai family. Dan Pah was known for having the prettiest men and women, the kinkiest sex, the best clubs for raving in, (a large distinction was made here, because the clubs that were the best for heavy metal mosh pits was in Sei Tag, the Korean District), and the strangest variety of drugs offered at their Tribal Clubs.

Each club had a slight variation on the tribal theme depending on what types of odd substances were served, notably peyote and natema. Dean found himself passing by one such club and wondering what the hell natema was and where it came from. It didn't sound like a Thai word, so he figured it was imported from somewhere else. He saw that, a few buildings down, the elephant symbol had become what appeared to be a winged horse: known as a Chomallia in Korean mythology. He'd looked it up. He sighed, turning around to head back.

Suddenly, a woman was strolling up to him, delicate hand laid on his arm. He smiled charmingly at her.

"Well hey there, Beautiful."

The woman smiled, showing unnaturally white teeth, stark against her deep skin. Dean suppressed a shiver and blamed it on the night air, conveniently forgetting that it was summer and the sun had only been down for a little over an hour. She pulled out a flask, took a long swig, and then offered it to him. If he'd been thinking, or if he'd had an actual destination, he would have politely declined and continued on his way. Except, he wasn't and he didn't.

So he grinned wider, taking the flask and a long drink himself. He was relieved: it was just tea. Not any tea he'd ever had, (and holy Hell would Sam **ever **make fun of him if he knew about Dean's secret fondness for tea), but it tasted sweet and a little watery, and he figured he'd misjudged the woman a little. He felt a slight twinge of guilt. Her smile turned predatory and his guilt turned into dread, leaden in his gut.

"You going to see someone special tonight?"

Dean nodded, not seeing any harm in disclosing it. She smiled again and he had to bite his tongue. Her teeth were really much sharper than seemed decent and he was struck by wanting to say; "My, what sharp teeth you have!" mostly because he was afraid of what her response might be. He leaned against the side of the building, studying her intently. He was cataloguing her features; trying to determine if she was anything other than a fucked up human girl. Her outlines seemed hazy, like she was simply a manifestation of the night itself. Dean wasn't sure if that was possible or not, but figured he couldn't altogether rule it out. She seemed to note his suspicion and returned it with amusement.

"Don't worry," she purred. "I had them filed down a while back. See?"

She lifted her lips more and he leaned a little closer, seeing that she also had some tiny gemstone studs embedded in her canines. The gems were glistening rubies and glinted dangerously against her pearly teeth. He didn't bother to try and repress the shudder the second time. There was something seriously wrong with her and he (not that he'd ever admit it) was honestly more scared of humans who were cuckoo for cocoa puffs than monsters who were just that way naturally. Or, unnaturally.

Dean leaned side to side, trying to look cool and confident. He shifted his weight and promptly lost his footing, snapping his hand out to catch himself. He was breathing heavier, not sure what was happening. Blood roared in his ears. He could feel his heart start beating a little bit faster. He felt like someone was pumping him full of adrenaline, woozy with all the sudden extra energy. He listed to one side before he caught himself, making a little square with his wobbling feet. The woman laughed and Dean blinked. She was gone. He spun around, searching the night for her, but she had completely vanished.

He tried to be worried, tried to get himself back to the Impala, to a hospital, something. He ended up in the doorway of Bangkok. Somehow, he wasn't the least bit surprised. He shoved the door open, not even noting that the small Asian woman was not manning the door that night. He wobbled in and grasped the back of a chair with both hands, leaning over it.

He was absolutely parched. It was like someone had been forcing sand down his throat for hours and he was only just now surprised. He managed to walk in a fairly straight line to the woman at the bar.

"Wha-water."

She turned to get him a bottle. He remembered his manners a second later.

"Uh, please."

He pulled at the collar of his shirt, taking off his jacket and slinging it over his arm. _Didn't they know how hot the room had become? Why the fuck would anyone turn up the heat this high?_ A single bead of sweat rolled down the slope of his nose and he swiped it away impatiently. The woman was saying something to him, but it wasn't registering.

He was preoccupied with her eyes. They were swirling, now blue, now grey, now almost black. A kaleidoscope unfolded before him.

"Your eyes... they're so... colorful."

The woman evaluated him, furrowing her brow. She shrugged and turned away to continue washing glasses. Dean watched her turn, wondering how someone could move so slowly. Her outline was vague and it sort of pulled away, not keeping up even though she was moving as if through molasses. He tilted his head, trying to follow between the colors apparently bleeding from the outline of the woman, almost making it appear as if her essence was detaching from her back, trying desperately to escape.

Sam hadn't been expecting Dean. He'd been more quiet than normal, staring at Sam every time he moved. Sam had finally gotten fed up, unsure of what to do with all the extra attention, sick of spending the entire day in a constant state of blushing and being half hard with the intensity of Dean's stare. So, Sam had returned it, fully expecting Dean to stutter, ignore the whole thing, and just stop following him with his gaze. Dean hadn't even reacted. He just blinked very slowly. Sam ended up having to look away first and cursed himself.

So when he strolled out, having just finished brushing his teeth, to see Dean watching Lena at the bar, well. He was stunned. Dean made a habit, after the first couple of nights anyways, of coming fairly early on in the evenings. Maybe he'd go to a bar for a while, then come to Bangkok if he was going to. Dean also had never been quite this intoxicated when Sam had seen him. He quickly recovered, rushing over before he had a chance to properly take a look at Dean. When he put his hand on his shoulder and Dean turned, painfully slow, to face him, Sam gasped and tried to step back.

His eyes were nearly black and Sam had the word "Christo" on his lips before he realized that Dean was just drunk. Or maybe high. Sam wasn't altogether sure. Sam knew what his brother looked like after smoking weed, knew how he'd get giggly and a little wobbly and tended to do things that Sam just had to bring up again to tease him about. It was some unwritten rule of being a little brother. Dean didn't look like that though, looked too... **intense. **Dean's eyes seemed to take a moment to focus on him and Dean's lips parted, forming a small o.

"Sammi." He breathed, reaching out to cup his face and stroke his side, stepping impossibly closer. Sam held perfectly still, not sure what was going on. "So beautiful. Oh God. Can't even believe 'm this lucky. Want you so bad. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful."

Dean clutched Sam to his chest, raining small kisses on his face, alternating between ghosting his lips over Sam's skin, murmuring into his ear, and nuzzling him, hands never stilling in their caresses up and down Sam's body. His skin pebbled with gooseflesh. Dean wasn't even trying to turn Sam on, just comforting and _Oh my lord, is he being affectionate? What the actual FUCK? _If Dean noticed how still and silent Sam was being, he didn't comment on it.

"Your skin is so soft..."

Sam's breathing sped up. There was obviously something wrong: Dean never behaved this way. Especially not with some random whore he'd been banging for a month or so. Sam carefully pulled away slightly and hesitantly asked "Dean?"

"'mm?"

"Hey, c'mon, let's go somewhere okay?"

Sam took his hand and started trying to lead him back to the corridor. The closest one happened to be the one on the right side: the one for more adventurous customers and the women willing to accommodate. Sam didn't notice, just focused on dragging Dean along. Even holding his hand didn't seem to appease his need for closeness, he wrapped his arms around Sam's waist and managed to walk in step with him, gently smoothing his fingertips over any skin he could find, dropping sweet kisses on Sam's shoulders. By the time they got into a room and closed the door, Sam was overly sensitive everywhere and Dean still hadn't shown a drop of lust.

Sam was getting very unnerved. He chided himself. _Fuck! You're always wishing he was more like this, more like a lover, more affectionate towards you, dropping the gruff act and letting you in. And now that he is, you're freaking out! _Sam took a few calming breaths, getting his thrumming heart rate under control. He'd unconsciously closed his eyes during his mental conversation, so it took him a second to realize that Dean had stopped.

Sam spun around quickly, not wanting Dean to think he didn't like the attention because _Oh do I ever!_ Except, that didn't seem to be the issue. Dean was taken up with squinting into the dim lighting of the room, surveying the contents. Sam followed suit, feeling suddenly light-headed. He'd wandered down the wrong corridor. Dean made a small sound behind him.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, s'okay, c'm'ere."

Dean's arms, which had meanwhile dropped to his sides, resumed petting Sam, alternately pulling him closer and rubbing ever so gently at his shoulders, massaging away the abrupt tension that seeing where they had ended up had brought. Sam took another deep breath. Dean turned so that his lips slid over Sam's ear and his breath was warm. Sam couldn't help the shiver that sped down his spine.

"'m gonna take care of you. Not gonna hurt you, 'kay?"

Sam nodded into Dean's chest, trusting him with all his heart. Dean's voice dropped an octave and the hand that had been scurrying up and down Sam's side dropped to cup his ass.

"'less of course you want me to."

Sam chanced a look at Dean's eyes. They'd darkened even further, almost obscuring the slim ring of green iris. It wasn't a typical Dean leer; the craving and utter **want **on his face sent sparks of heat skittering down his skin. Sam was nearly trembling with need. Dean seemed to recognize it, swooping in to kiss the living daylights out of Sam. He melted into Dean's arms, not bothering to keep cognizant of anything other than his big brother taking care of him, like he promised.

Dean gently picked up Sam and carried him to the soft bed in the middle of the room. Sam didn't even have time to register Dean's absence before he was back and _is he tying me up?! _Sam struggled a little to lift his head and see what was happening. He felt his hair being swept to one side and heard a click as his neck was encased in a leather collar. _COLLAR? _Sam startled, trying desperately to sit up fast, only to be immediately choked and jerked back to a lying down position. His collar was attached to a short leash, connecting him to the bed frame. He felt similar bonds being clasped around his wrists and he continued to struggle, panic flooding his system in earnest. Dean was trying to shush him, but Sam was past listening until Dean got fed up. He swiftly lifted Sam's legs (_probably how he did when he was going to change my diaper _and wasn't that a disturbing thought?) and delivering a resounding smack to Sam's exposed behind. Sam ceased the high-pitched whines that he hadn't even realized he was making. His breathing continued to speed up, spurred on by lust now. Dean noticed and a slow smile spread over his face.

"Got a thing for being spanked?"

Sam flushed a dark red and averted his eyes. Dean chuckled, his voice sliding over Sam like oiled silk. He shuddered. Dean slowly released his legs, only to bend them at the knee and press his feet into the bed, shoving hard enough so that Sam would get the idea and hold them there. He obeyed.

Dean disappeared for another second before reappearing with what looked like a small ring. It was quickly clipped around Sam, who was so hard that he probably would have come right then and there if not for that _tightightohgodtootight _ring. Dean nodded approvingly and Sam whined, bucking his hips up, seeking some modicum of relief and finding none. Dean's hand stroked lovingly down Sam's inner thigh. Dean clambered up onto the bed, shifting around before stopping and frowning suddenly. Sam just blinked at him.

Dean shoved a finger into his mouth and then started circling Sam's hole, pressing just the tip inside. Sam's eyes widened, remembering a certain comment about trussing him up and fucking him and _nononononono please no, I can't I can't no please_

"Dean, no. Please, please, not that. Not ready. Please. Please. Not ready, I can't-"

Dean pressed Sam's knees down flat and crawled up his body, removing his dress and placing velvety kisses every time new skin was exposed. He spent a little time sucking and licking at Sam's nipples, making the moans into ones of pleasure. Dean's finger didn't stop though. He got up to Sam's face and looked him in the eyes.

"Not gonna do more than this. Just a finger. That's all. Promise."

Sam whimpered and nodded, hips bucking uncontrollably. He still felt tears pricking at his eyes and one managed to worm its way out. It didn't slide very far down his cheek before Dean was kissing it away and murmuring praise and nonsense words of comfort into Sam's lips, kissing him deeply and languidly. Sam felt himself begin to relax more into it, letting the finger slip a tiny bit deeper. Dean pulled away, Sam groaning in protest.

He heard Dean snickering quietly as he tried to shuck off all his clothes. He had serious trouble, coordination obviously failing him. Sam moved to help him before he remembered that he couldn't move and so just waited patiently until Dean had stripped to his own satisfaction. Sam heard the small snick of a bottle opening and felt the finger return, more slick and a little colder than before. He gasped and involuntarily rolled his hips, not sure anymore whether he was trying to move away or towards it. Sam felt himself trembling and bucking, coherent thoughts leaving his mind.

"Dean...oh...oh...oh! Deeeeean! DeanDeanDeanDean..."

Dean realized after a second that Sammi seemed to have forgotten any word except his name and a surge of power coursed through his veins, pumping hard through his body. He moved up and down Sammi's body, tugging his hair, slapping his flanks hard enough to leave red prints, kissing and lapping, but never touching Sammi where he **really needed it. **Even when Dean did stroke him there, it wasn't like Sammi could do anything besides thrust and writhe uselessly, unable to find his release.

Dean was giving him a goofy grin and if Sam could formulate a sentence, he would have accused Dean of enjoying the proceedings far too much. Before he had a chance to process it, Dean's mouth, _ohohohOH don't stop. don't stop. DEAN!, _which had been suctioning Sam's sac, drawn up next to his body and trying desperately to empty itself, dipped to his inner thigh, biting hard enough to draw blood.

Sam made a noise that was the lovechild of a scream and a yowl, wiggling and grinding himself against Dean like a bitch in heat. He let go of Sam's sensitive flesh, but continued to lick it, occasionally sucking the bruised and bleeding skin into his mouth and gentle suckling at the blood that continued to flow out. Sam didn't want to examine the spike in his arousal at the blood play too seriously. Dean unclipped the ring from Sam, who was aching so good, and carefully slithered his tongue around the head, tonguing the throbbing vein and the bundle of nerves and Sam was coming, blinding and fast, shuddered and twitching like a dancing marionette struck by lightning. He didn't exactly pass out, but he was on the verge of consciousness and only noticed Dean in a far away sense.

Dean, on the other hand, had lost any control he might have still had and was humping Sam's leg vigorously, getting himself off in record time and in a fashion that would have normally embarrassed him terribly. He unconsciously rubbed his own come into Sam's leg and Sam didn't have the strength to complain about the stickiness. He didn't find it as disgusting or uncomfortable as he might have on any other day. As it was, he was so relaxed afterwards and told Sam so.

"Oh Sammi. Sammi. Wanna cuddle, c'mere, let's just lay here 'kay?"

Sammi was still too out of it to be anything but pliant and soft. Dean untied him and spooned his body around him, snuggling Sam like a bony teddy bear. Sam eventually came to and, while baffled and worried about whatever Dean was obviously on, truly enjoyed being so close to his brother. Sated, warm, and happy. They'd stopped snuggling like this when Dean had hit puberty and uncomfortable morning wood had become a slight problem to be studiously ignored, but Sam sorely missed it. And now, he had confirmation that Dean missed it too. He smiled.

Dean stayed longer than he normally did, just petting Sammi and playing with his hair. At one point, he rolled Sammi over and carefully straddled him. Sammi tensed, but Dean rubbed soothing circles on his lower back. He had found lotion somewhere and proceeded to rub it into Sammi, paying extreme attention to every inch of him, even sucking lightly on his toes, making Sam half-hard again. The second round was just them slotted together, pressing kisses everywhere they could reach and running their fingers everywhere, rubbing slowly and taking their time. Sam adored it.

Before Dean left, (Sam had been quite wary and wanted him to call a cab, not thinking he was able to drive. Dean had reassured him, finally convincing him that he could see just fine and it would be fine, he'd take some Advil when he got home and go straight to sleep and wasn't it so sweet that Sammi was all worried about him like that?) he pressed a final kiss behind Sam's ear and reached a hand around, finger ghosting over the fist sized hickey on the inside of Sam's right thigh, murmuring how he was sorry, he didn't mean to hurt him. Sam waved him off, smiling contentedly.

When he finally snuck home himself, Dean was knocked the fuck out, having just barely made it to his bed. Sam carefully stripped him and tucked him in, placing a tall glass of water next to the bed for when he woke up. He wanted to put some Advil there too; figures that Dean would fall asleep before taking the medication he'd prescribed himself. But, Sam didn't want to give himself away and conveniently leaving the exact brand that Dean himself had mentioned might be a little too close for comfort.

Besides, Sam was tired and happy and didn't need to be worrying about that sort of thing right now. Fuck, _might even get in a good night's sleep. Can't jinx myself though, don't need more nightmares. _Sam slipped into sleep as he contemplated counting the money he had saved in the morning; it had been awhile after all. He was so pleased.


	19. Coco

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Beta'd by the most wonderful Miss Tam!

As it happened, Sam had more than enough money to purchase the desired jacket. He had stopped counting a while back, figuring that eventually he'd have enough and maybe some left over for other things. He'd cut a secret pocket into the side of his duffel bag, shoving the money in there whenever he acquired more. Dean was outside, earning grocery money for them both by walking up and down the block and offering to wash people's cars. Most of them were willing to take him up on the offer and consequently, he was going to be occupied for the afternoon. Sam counted out enough money and stuffed it deep into his pocket before phoning Lexy.

"Hey Sam! Haven't heard from you in a few days! How's life treating you?"

Sam grinned. Dean was sauntering around a few houses down, sponging down an old truck that was so rusted Sam couldn't be sure what the original color was. Dean was shirtless. It was summer, hot, and Sam imagined he could see the sweat rolling down the broad expanse of his brother's freckled back. _He's gonna be so sunburned tonight. He'll be whining and complaining... and I'll have to rub aloe vera all over him. _

"Hellooooooo? What the fuck Sam? Someone better be naked!"

Sam snapped back to the present and a slightly annoyed Lexy on the line. He coughed, embarrassed. "Um, no. Sorry. I was, uh. Zoning out."

"Uh-huh." Lexy sounded disbelieving, but Sam quickly changed the subject.

"So, I've finally saved up enough to get the jacket for Dean and stuff. I was wondering, if you weren't busy or anything, if you could maybe take me to go get it?"

"Ummm, hold on a minute, kay?"

"Yeah."

Sam walked over to the window to continue watching Dean, keeping the phone next to his ear for when Lexy came back. Vaguely, he could hear her walking around and the sound of a computer booting up. She sighed and cursed, opening and closing a few drawers. Sam heard some pages flipping.

Dean was taking a small break. He was leaning back against the rusty truck and then turned towards the front door. A young woman walked out, toting a glass of lemonade. _Probably freshly squeezed, just for you Dear and thank you so much for helping out on such a warm day like this. You must be exhausted! _Sam mocked the woman, feeling unwarranted anger and jealousy bubbling up in his chest. Sam could imagine Dean grinning back, turning on the charm. Sometimes, Sam wondered if it was on purpose anymore, or if it was just what Dean reverted to when confronted with any girl over the age of thirteen? Dean half turned away, looking out into the distance.

Sam could see that the woman was still talking to Dean, could see her glossy mouth moving in a constant stream of inane chatter. He felt a cruel, satisfied smile spread over his face at Dean's bored and impatient expression. Dean lifted the glass and polished off the icy drink, licking his lips when he'd finished. Sam wasn't so busy tracking the movement that he didn't notice the woman doing the same thing. He huffed. _She's so obvious about it, it's kind of embarrassing for anyone watching. Well, not that she thinks anyone is watching. Uh, or that anyone is supposed to be watching. Oh. I guess this isn't really what I ought to be doing, huh? _Sam felt a twitch of uncomfortable settle low in his tummy.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, well I'm gonna be available tomorrow afternoon. Do you need a ride or can you meet me there?"

Sam blinked, reminding himself that he needed to participate in order for this to be a conversation and that she was doing **him **a favor.

"Oh, you're gonna be there already?"

"Yeah, I'm working a normal shift I think. I can call you when I find out tomorrow morning. They never tell us in advance, always just have the roster up when we get to work."

Sam was nodding.

"Yeah, I can prolly get Dean to drive me there or something."

"You sure?"

Sam smiled. Dean had handed the glass back to the girl and abruptly turned back to resume washing the car. She hadn't taken the hint and gone back inside; just stood there, blatantly gazing hungrily at Dean's back. The muscles rippled smoothly as he leaned over the hood. Sam's eyes drifted down and he had to hurriedly suppress a snicker. From where Dean had been leaning against the truck, he had rust stains on his back pockets and the seat of his pants was mostly brownish red.

"Definitely."

"See you tomorrow then!"

"Bye."

Dean had come bounding in later that night with pizza, crowing "Sammy! That last woman was gonna pay me in pizza and invited me in for a 'private dinner'..." Dean purred, wagging his eyebrows at Sam in a lewd way. Sam just huffed in amusement, burying his jealousy. He struggled to brace himself against what he knew was inevitable: another evening filled with Dean Winchester's Excellent Adventures Between the Sheets with Random Lady #One Billion.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. He'd been starving, on the verge of just making himself a sandwich or walking somewhere when Dean finally came back, pizza box in tow. Now though, the hunger had dwindled, leaving more room for anger and depression. Sam listened half-heartedly, trying to ready himself for a typhoon of depression and disappointment. He knew if he said any of this aloud, _exempting the whole 'inappropriate feelings' talk, _Dean would say he was being "melodramatic", but at the moment, Sam couldn't find it in himself to care.

"...but I was like nah! I've gotta get home to my little brother. And she was all cooing and aww that's so sweet how you're so protective and surely he won't mind if you're a little late, but I said nope! sorry! Gotta go! And took the pizza and just came home."

Sam blinked, confused. Dean was grinning and puffing his chest out proudly. At Sam's expression though, his enthusiasm dimmed. He put the box down and scratched the back of his neck, looking suddenly young and unsure.

"I mean, unless you just want to be alone or something?"

Then it clicked. Dean was **asking his permission. Asking forgiveness even? **That second one might have been more of a long shot, butSam was speechless. He'd never been in this position. Dean was flicking looks at him wildly, biting his lip. Sam pulled himself together, offering Dean a small, but genuine smile.

"I'm always happy when you're here and not looking for diseases from older women, you big Jerk. You know that. "

Dean could see how earnest his little brother was being and a tsunami of relief crashed through him. Sam had been acting really strange lately. Not to mention all the nightmares and the increasingly prominent black smudges beneath his eyes. Dean was getting really worried about him, worried that he was doing something wrong. Sam had called out his name a few times, _whimpered in fear more like, _during his dreams and Dean wondered if they were about him being physically abusive. Every time he touched Sam as of late, he'd flinch, and then automatically lean back into it. He used to not react, or just nudge him back, probably unconscious of the entire exchange.

Dean was a fairly tactile person. Small things: nudging knees under a table, kicking ankles, punches to shoulders, hands on knees, hands on shoulders, hands on backs, everything. It was how he showed affection. Dad did the same thing, only not nearly as often as Dean did. Sam had grown up with those touches meaning everything Dean couldn't put into words.

It seemed like since Dad had left, _since you slammed Sammy into the counter and then clocked him, _Sam had been either shying away from the touching or clutching it like a drowning man. Dean couldn't decide which was stranger. _I wonder if the cutting is still happening? Shying away like I'm gonna hurt him again. No point in promising I won't since I already did and nothing can take that back. _Dean's thoughts darkened by the second. _And then leaning into it. To distract me from him flinching away? Is he afraid I'll be mad that he doesn't want me touching him? Or maybe he can't decide, still wants the contact, still finds it comforting even if logically there's a chance of pain? _

Dean wasn't sure which thought sickened him more. Any situation involving him causing Sammy fear was not a good one. Sam reached past him for some pizza, brushing against his body. Sam shivered and Dean noticed, wondering what the hell was going on. He really didn't want to have the cutting conversation. He felt guilty, knew it was his responsibility as big brother and caretaker but if Sam was already fearful and doing everything to stay on Dean's good side; not disappoint him or give him incentive to hit him, well.

There was no way that talk could possibly be productive. They munched on the pizza in silence, broken only with the sounds of chewing and their stomachs digesting. The silence was companionable, not strained, but laden with meaning. They were both waiting for the other one to say something and neither were really ready for the conversation. As a result, it didn't happen.

Sam hauled out the giant bottle of aloe vera they always bought at the beginning of summer and led Dean back to his bedroom. He was itching and lobster red, feeling really uncomfortable.

"Sammy..."

He whined, not wanting to deal with anything right then. Sam just rolled his eyes and chuckled exasperatedly.

"C'mon. This will make it feel better. Just lay down 'kay?"

Dean complied, closing his eyes as Sam's skillful hands set to work. He lathered him up in the gel, beginning with his back where he'd taken the brunt of the burn. Dean was shivering and hissing at the cold and Sam made soothing noises. When he rolled Dean over, Dean was already feeling better. Sam was even more careful doing his front, just barely sliding his fingers everywhere. Sam was thorough, getting in the crevices between Dean's fingers, gingerly applying the gel to his belt line and all over his face and behind his ears. Dean was shaking uncontrollably as Sam massaged it into his neck and ghosted over his nipples.

When Sam skimmed under his belly button, Dean couldn't quite bite back the groan. Sam froze above him. Dean shook his head, murmuring "'s fine Sammy. Keep going. Feels good." Sam obeyed, apologizing softly as he unbuckled Dean's jeans. He slid them down a little bit, just to be able to get at the burned hipbones which had been exposed when he'd been leaning over the cars and stooping to rewet the wash cloth all day. Sam studiously ignored Dean hardening under his touch, as much as he ignored his own cock, aching between his legs. It wasn't easy. When he finished, Sam turned and headed for the shower. Dean was fast asleep when he emerged and Sam took a moment to stand in the doorway, watching the slow rise and fall of Dean's back. He always slept on his stomach.

Sam didn't have nightmares that night.

Lexy called the next morning. Dean was in the shower, preparing for another day of offering physical labor for money to buy them both groceries and Sam had just finished his cereal. He answered the phone, yawning hugely.

"Hmmm-'ello?"

"Did I seriously wake you up?"

"No! I was just yawning!"

Lexy clucked at Sam's righteous indignation.

"Anyways. Just wanted to tell you I'm done at 2:30 today. You still think you can get a ride here?"

Sam was nodding, biting his lip. He **had **meant to ask Dean last night, but he'd fallen asleep before they'd had a chance to talk really. Sam shrugged.

"Yeah. Or, well, he's in the shower and I'll talk to him when he's out. I'll call you if I can't, but I guess just expect me there at 2:30."

"Mmkay."

"See you."

Sam waited patiently on the couch for Dean to emerge, cheeks pink and freshly scrubbed. He ignored the flutter in his stomach as Dean stretched and winced at the sunburn, cracking his neck.

"Morning Kiddo."

"You mind giving me a ride somewhere today?"

Dean just raised and lowered a shoulder, cocking an eyebrow.

"Depends on where."

"Mall?"

Dean paused for a second, then grinned. There was something weird about his smile. Something Sam couldn't place exactly.

"Gotta go meet up with the girlfriend?"

Sam just rolled his eyes, huffing "Yeah, something like that." He'd learned to stop fighting with Dean about him so **not **having a crush on Lexy a while ago. He would just roll with it and mostly ignore it. Dean bit his lip, thinking.

"Yeah okay. I'll come back after I mow a lawn or two. What time?"

"Like 2:30?"

Dean nodded.

"That works. You need me to pick you up too?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, she can bring me back. I won't take you away from the cute women bringing you free lemonade for too long."

Sam was teasing, kept his tone purposefully light. _Being jealous of married women giving Dean something to drink while he was performing manual labor for them is no reason to get your panties in a twist. _And somehow, it still bothered him. Just a little bit. Not that Dean was ever going to know. Sam was berating himself for being stupidly jealous, so he missed the strange, suspicious look Dean gave him at the comment. Something about the way Sammy had just thrown it in seemed... off. _Didn't make sense really. On the other hand, what in their lives ever did?_

The time passed quickly. Dean was out and Sam waited at the window, watching Dean mow lawns. At one point, a little girl came outside, tottering along like she'd just learned to walk. She was towing a toy wagon behind her and inside was a stuffed capybara and a sippy cup, precariously wobbling as she was. Dean cut the power of the lawn mower to crouch down and talk to her. She grinned, open-mouthed, at him and offered him her sippy cup. He smiled and took a small drink before returning it and shooing her off the lawn. Sam laughed, watching the exchange. _Wonder what I was like at that age?_

Pretty soon, a sweaty Dean emerged from the front door, hollering for Sam to get his ass in gear. It was a quick drive to the mall, with Dean lecturing him the entire way and demanding his phone be kept on and wanting to know when he thought he'd be back and if he got dinner out with Lexy, it had better be at least somewhat healthy and did he have enough money on him to get himself something to eat? Sam finally got him to shut up when he opened the car door, saying:

"My phone is on, I should be home in a couple of hours, I'll wait and have dinner with you, I have some money in case I get hungry while I'm out, and when the fuck did you start caring if I eat healthily? You eat junk food all the time!"

"Language Sammy! And I'm the eldest!"

Sam clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes at his brother. As Dean drove away, he muttered "Asshole." but didn't really mean it. He found Lexy just as she was waving goodbye to the other people working there and snickered at something one of them yelled. Sam wasn't really listening and missed it. Lexy smiled at him.

"So, jacket?"

Sam nodded, a big grin of his own blooming over his face at the realization that _this is it! I won't have to worry about this anymore! I'll get Dean the jacket and just chuck the receipt. I can give it to him for Christmas or something like that, say Dad gave me some money or whatever for it. Got it on sale. _In theory, this meant that he didn't have to keep whoring, but he was taking a real shine to Bangkok and the other people who worked there. Sure, he'd had some truly awful experiences, but it was worth it for when Dean would come (pun only sort of intended) and it was the only time he'd ever be able to live out his perverted fantasies with his brother, so maybe just a few more times.

Once Dad got back, he'd call Sun and let her know he was quitting and that would be the end of that. A gnawing sensation filled the back of his mind suddenly. _Are you going to be able to give him up though? Now that you know what he tastes like? What he feels like? How he sounds when you're making him come?_

Sam shook it off. He'd worry about it when it happened. As for right now, he had a jacket to find.

It didn't take very long to locate and buy the jacket. Lexy gave him her mall discount, so it was even cheaper than he'd been expecting. He shoved the receipt into the jacket's pocket and promptly forgot about it. It was almost a let down; how easy the whole thing really was. To make it more exciting, he decided to do a little bit of shopping for himself. He couldn't help it. He saw a beautiful silky sundress, just a simple forest green one, with brown swirling designs circling around the dress. He got it too, ignoring the look from the cashier and just focusing on Lexy as she kept reassuring him.

"It's beautiful Sam. Really."

She had plans that night, was going to pick up her parents from the airport. Apparently, they'd been on a trip to Japan, visiting some medical students of her father's, and even though Lexy had desperately wanted to go, she couldn't take that much time off of work and wasn't willing to give up her job. She was really happy her parents were finally coming back though; was smiling and chattering on about them the entire time. Her mom knew how much she loved Japanese culture - had she told Sam that? - and promised to get her some nice souvenirs.

Lexy had actually been to Japan before, twice, but really wanted to go back and see what'd changed there over the years since she'd last been, at 13. She invited Sam to come home with her, saying they could have dinner, but he declined, remembering what he'd promised Dean and relaying it to Lexy.

"Just the sort of night to spend with your family, huh?"

Sam gave her a lopsided smile as he leaned in the car to grab his shopping bags. They'd passed Dean, somewhat down the street, working busily on yet another lawn so Sam knew he'd have time to hide the jacket and dress before Dean got back.

"Have fun tonight, Lexy!"

"You too Sam!"

She turned up her guilty pleasure music, Lady Gaga, as Sam closed the door and she drove off. Sam watched her go for a moment, before racing inside to hide everything. The dress was easy; it could be folded very small. He shoved it into a secret pocket in his duffel. The jacket was bulkier and harder. He ended up smushing it in the small crevice under his bed, praying that no one ever had a reason to go checking under there. It certainly wasn't a big enough space to hide anyone larger than a toddler. Sam stretched out on the couch when he was done, not planning to nap, but falling asleep as soon as his head his the armrest as he waited for Dean.


	20. Voyeurz

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Beta'd by the ever lovely Miss Tam!

Dean had made a habit of going to Bangkok first and to a nearby bar afterwards. He'd mentioned to Sammi, one of the first few times he'd gone sober, about the bars. Even invited Sammi to come with him, perch cutely on his arm, batting his pretty little eyes, and making all the guys jealous.

Sam had politely refused, storing the information away. _Means you can have other clients after Dean; make more money that way. Have a bigger chance of something else going terribly wrong. _Sam discarded the last thought. Sam was quiet, thinking about how this meant that he now had some leeway in getting back to their place before Dean; wouldn't have to rush, his heart in his throat the entire time. Dean fidgeted nervously, not sure what had caused the sudden silence. _Was it something I said? _He cleared his throat.

"Um, I mean, not that I just think of you as an accessory or anything like that..." Sammi gave him a blank look and Dean's eyes widened, voice lowering in volume as he continued. "I don't think of you like that at all."

It took Sam a second to realize that Dean was feeling guilty for his careless comment earlier. He licked his lips looking away. It made a warm feeling expand, from his chest to the tips of his toes, to think that Dean was this sweet. _It's not just you. Bet he treats all his whores like this. _Sam stubbornly pushed the idea away, clinging to the wariness in Dean's eyes when he thought he'd hurt 'Sammi's' feelings. Sam smiled at him shyly.

"I-it's not that. I was just, well. No one's ever invited me out like that before." At Dean's raised eyebrow, Sam clarified. "Been proud to have me with them."

Dean's eyes softened. He reached out to stroke Sam's face. Sam relished the memory. He was idly wondering, weeks later, which bar Dean frequented or whether he tried out different ones each night, when Lance came in. Lance was tall and thin with dark hair and darker eyes, dressed in baggy clothes and with studded leather bracelets on each wrist and a matching choker. He wasn't wearing make-up, but he was wearing cargo pants with too many chains tucked into combat boots and Sam got the feeling that the apparent steel toes on them weren't fake. The last time he'd been there, he had loved teasing and playing with Sam, somehow sensing that was something Sam enjoyed. He was one of the few customers who'd made such an impression. Lance strutted into Bangkok and picked out Sam immediately.

Sam was reclining against the Temple, as it was, sipping a Shirley Temple. He'd never do it if there was **any **chance of Dean walking in. _Dean just left fifteen minutes ago. He's not coming back any time soon. No way. _Even if the brother-taunting rules didn't apply in their relationship, Dean had shown himself to not be above some gentle teasing when he thought 'Sammi' was in the right mood for it. Much gentler teasing than Lance. Dean probably wouldn't even think much of it, Shirley Temple is a chick drink and Sam's in a dress. _Can't shake the worry of being mercilessly teased forever by my brother though. _Sam grimaced internally. He tongued the cherry that was floating in his drink, not conscious of his actions. Lance was though.

Lance sauntered up, licking his lips and thrusting his hips forward, not bothering to hide anything. Even his baggy pants couldn't hide the obscene jut of his erection, almost brushing Sam, not quite though. Sam was eye level with his navel, his crotch very visible in Sam's range of vision. He cautiously looked up into Lance's eyes, which were growing even darker, if possible. Sam let his tongue peek through his lips, carefully extending it and wrapping it around the straw, which had drifted around to the other side of the glass. He gently reeled the straw towards his own mouth, parting his lips to suck the clear straw in, pulling in the icy liquid. _I feel like a darned fool. _

Lance didn't seem to agree. He turned out to be more forceful than Dean, bordering on aggressive. _Just like last time._ In fact, if there had been just a little more force behind his movements, Sam would have panicked. _Can't afford to take chances. Never could. _But he wasn't and Sam didn't. Lance swiped the glass away, almost spilling the fizzy drink over the sides of the glass. He placed it lightly on the bar behind them and reached down with a huge paw to cup Sam's ass, yanking him close. Sam's lips were still parted from drinking and a soft gasp came out then.

"Oh so beautiful. Such a beauty. Wanna come play with me again Beauty? Promise you'll love it. Tiny little thing like you. 'M much stronger than I look, remember, gonna bend you just how I want, hmm? Skinny Beauty, just like me hmm? Delilah right? I know all about hard angles and just how beautiful they are, hips making perfect holds for my hands..."

Sam felt a deep flush creeping up from his chest, covering his neck and reaching his cheeks. It made Lance grin and pull them even closer together. Sam was nodding fervently, pressing himself forward, reaching down to grope for Lance's crotch. Lance frowned suddenly, grabbing Sam's hand, nearly crushing his fingers. Sam yelped and then bit back a groan. Lance leaned down and whispered in Sam's ear "Oh no. We do this my way. And my way is definitely not in full view of everyone right here. That's what you've got those convenient rooms for right?"

Sam nodded again, feeling electricity skitter up and down his spine. He didn't remember Lance being quite this forward last time, had remembered a little more subtlety in his movements, but Sam couldn't care less at that moment. He followed Lance into the closest available room. The bartender was watching avidly, heard the door click shut and lock. He turned to the tiny screen hidden under the bar, where the glasses were kept. Really, it was there for safety purposes. Sun had been talking about getting video cameras in the place, _the whole place I don't just mean the rooms for the people who feel the need to record what goes on and re-watch their actions over and over again. I don't get those people really. Narcissistic. No one ever wants my thoughts though. _After the incident with Delilah, that had been the final push. It had been expensive and there had been some issues, but when Sun wanted something done, it got done.

As a result, the bartenders had an extra chore added to their jobs. Before, although there were 6 formally hired bartenders, and 3 not so formally hired, if one had needed to take a break or wanted an hour off, a Pearl could come substitute for a little while. Not so anymore. Sun had even had one of the not so formally hired men teach the other bartenders basic fighting skills, as well as equipping Bangkok further. She insisted it was precautionary, _not turning this place into a fortress or something, _and made sure everyone who worked in the establishment knew where the hidden weapons were.

Under the screen was a keyboard with the capability of switching the screen to any one of the many cameras in the place. Sun had explicitly asked the bartenders, _on your honor, _to only check the rooms that were not Client Rooms and to only check those cameras if there was a suspected problem. So Chad maybe didn't have a lot of honor himself. He was new, hadn't been hired too long ago. He knew he wasn't the only one, had engaged in conversations with the others about similar peeking. He was sneaky, didn't broadcast it outside of cigarette breaks. No harm, no foul.

There was definitely something sexy about Delilah and that guy, Lance?'s chemistry. Well, maybe it was something more to do with the fact that Delilah was such a transparent sub. God, when he just let these guys dominate him, practically begging with those slanted eyes of his to be bent over and beaten, well. Chad was only human. He'd watched Delilah and that guy, Dean, Delilah's regular and they were hot. Dean was always calling Delilah Sammi for some reason; Chad wasn't entirely sure why, but clients usually had some strange nickname for their lays. This new guy though... this was something else altogether. Chad wondered if he'd ever seen this guy before, maybe with someone else? He did look kind of familiar. Chad was cupping himself through his slacks, distracted, continuing to glance nervously around the room to ensure he was alone.

"Beauty. So fucking beautiful. All for me..."

Sam was panting, more flushed than before. After shutting the door, he made to step forward into the room, after Lance, when a hand abruptly stopped his process. Sam looked up, freezing mid-step. Lance leaned in, lowering his voice slightly.

"I said we do this my way."

Sam blinked, eyelashes fluttering quickly. He opened his mouth to say something in response, but Lance's fingers pressed over his mouth. Sam opened his mouth automatically, taking Lance's fingers into his mouth. He hadn't had time to reapply lipstick after Dean had left, stopping to have a drink before preparing himself for another customer. Sam waited patiently, drool collecting in the corner of his mouth, not daring to move. Lance leered down at him, removing his fingers and pressing them under Sam's chin, efficiently clicking his jaw shut. Sam just stood there, letting him.

"You get down on the ground and stay there. You don't move until I move you and then you hold whatever position I leave you in. You have any issues, you tell me right now. Once I get started, well, let's just say I'm no good at reining myself in."

Sam just stared, working his jaw for a minute. His eyes turned pleading and Lance suddenly grinned wide.

"You may speak now."

"Anything but fucking. Nothing goes in anywhere except my mouth."

He looked down, licking his puffy lips, maintaining eye contact through his bangs. Lance hummed as he began to strip Delilah, reverently folding the dress in a corner and laying the panties on top. Delilah had his hair braided, Chad knew it was mostly hair extensions but damn they looked good, and Lance carefully unbraided it, letting it all fall in a loose brown curtain around Delilah's trembling body. Lance turned and stalked away, hauling a chair around to face Delilah and sitting down, spreading his legs in a wide v. Delilah sank down to the carpet slowly, putting his hands in front of his knees, waiting. Chad startled at the door opening, his hand jumping away from where he'd been stroking himself vigorously. Wonder of wonders, Dean walked in.

He'd gone to a bar, making use of his fake id and he remembered thinking when he got it that using it would never get old. After a beer or two, he'd been ready to head back, maybe get some sleep for once. But, the bar he was in was also a club and the music was thudding so hard through his veins and there'd been this cute blonde who'd come over, letting her hips roll just so. Her hair was up in a thoughtless twist, wisps coming out of it and she'd been in a swingy white dress with caramel colored cowboy boots to match her Southern twang. Casey from Louisiana, come to visit sunny California and wasn't he just the cutest thang?

Dean had been swept up into taking shots that Casey brazenly shoved in front of him, refusing to let him pay and actually smacking his hand away from his wallet twice. He'd grinned and given in eventually, even was persuaded out onto the dance floor, albeit briefly. She'd been grinding into him and his body forgot to give a fuck that he'd just nearly blown his brains out with three orgasms with Sammi not an hour before, getting hard so fast he was dizzy. _Knew I was good, but this is just ridiculous. _Unfortunately, for Dean's dick, Casey wasn't "that kind of girl." and he'd been left high and dry, with only a couple of teasing touches. So he'd gone back, intending to get off with Sammi, feeling almost guilty.

In fact, on his way back, the guilt had crept up. Dean had felt worse and worse as he approached. He almost didn't go in; his boner long gone from the half feeling of betraying Sammi. Even though, it wasn't like they were in a relationship. Far from it. There was no logical reason for the feelings, but that didn't make him feel them any less. So, biting his lips anxiously, Dean pushed the door opened and was confronted by...an extremely horny bartender. Dean frowned at him, opening his mouth to ask. Instead, the guy beckoned him over, crooking his finger with a sly look on his face. Dean walked around the bar, to see a screen that was apparently enthralling. _Watching porn in a whorehouse? What the Hell? _

"You can't talk about this, okay Man? Gotta be our secret."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the guy.

"Why the Hell should I keep this a secret? Isn't this supposed to be for the security cameras or something?"

If Dean had been allowed to continue that line of thought, it might have made him freak out, accuse the guy of jacking off while Sammi was being brutally tortured in the bathroom not 30 feet away. Chad, recognizing a problem, quickly cut him off.

"I'll give you the tape for this. Promise, it's something you want to see."

Dean pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, wondering what could **possibly **be so riveting. Until he got a good look at the screen. And it was Sammi, on the screen, on all fours, crawling slowly towards some guy in the corner. Sammi was naked as the day he was born and the guy was still fully clothed, spreading his knees further as Sammi inched closer.

"Yeah, yeah. Good boy. Such a good little boy. C'mon over here. Little closer."

Sam crawled ever closer, finally reaching Lance. He sat back on his heels, reaching for the button in his pants. Lance frowned and slapped his hand away. Sam flinched and crouched down, hiding his face, not even daring to look up. Lance tutted and pursed his lips, looking away and saying nothing. Sam's heart raced. _What does he...? Should I just wait? Or do something?_ Sam made a sudden decision, leaning forward; bracing himself on his fists, inching his way along, ready to be stopped at any moment.

Dean leaned towards the screen, intently watching.

Lance glanced down curiously. Swallowing carefully, Sam leaned down and kitten licked at the bulge before him. Lance groaned, opened his legs even wider and threw his head back. Encouraged, Sam began eagerly licking and sucking, mouthing his way up and down the hardening length. Lance went with it for a few minutes, moaning and jerking his head back, shallowly thrusting himself into Sam's mouth. His pants were soaked through and Sam was sucking hard around the end, trying to see if he could taste Lance through the layers of cloth between them. Lance leaned forward and yanked Sam off of him, shoving him back a little ways.

Sam looked hurt and confused, pupils blown wide and mouth chafed from sucking so intently at the unforgiving material. Lance grinned, bracing his elbows on his knees and angling his torso forward. He pillowed his chin between his hands and ran his eyes over Sam greedily. Sam shivered.

"Why don't you get yourself off for me? Lemme watch you fall apart?"

Sam's eyes widened, even as he was fumbling hastily for his own cock, bobbing and blood-heavy between his legs. He'd been sitting back on his heels, but at the first touch of his hand, he rose, bending his spine in ecstasy. He stripped himself hard, knowing he'd be sore for lack of fluids slicking the way, but found he simply couldn't care less. His other hand roamed around, pinching and rolling a nipple, pressing down on the hollow of his throat, dipping in and out of his belly button. Yeah, Sam was hitting all of his own buttons, but he knew he was putting on a show. His moans got louder and his hand moved lower, tugging and massaging, before Sam got an idea.

_I've only had other people really. In the heat of the moment anyways. What if it was me though? If I opened myself up, maybe it wouldn't hurt, wouldn't scare me so much. Not like I can do much to myself in that way... _Sam opened his mouth and slobbered all over his first two fingers, getting them nice and wet.

Lance knew where this show was going, even if Dean didn't.

Sam rocked and sat back, balancing expertly on his tailbone and shoving his legs as far apart as they would go. He slipped the first sloppy finger inside himself, to the second knuckle, and promptly forgot about the show he was so busily giving. Everyone watching knew the second it stopped being about Lance and started being about Sammi, about Delilah, about this boy who knew exactly how to play his body like a finely tuned guitar. Crooking his finger inside himself and rubbing the smooth, velvety soft walls, Sam understood with a sudden clarity why people were so anxious to be in there themselves.

He didn't let himself dwell on the thought though. He was still jerking himself, digging his thumb pad into the bundle of nerves right under the head. His moans turned into smaller cries of "ah! ah! ah! ah!", rocking back and forth almost imperceptibly. With that kind of intense stimulation, Sam knew he was going to come and soon. He yanked his finger out of himself and rocked back into his kneeling position, keening as the change and the twist of himself he'd unintentionally done sent him flying over the edge.

Lance promptly took advantage of Delilah coming in spurts and his pitching forward. Lance grabbed him roughly by the hair and manhandled Delilah onto his lap, pulling his knees together to support Delilah's body, slight as it was. His pants were loose enough to allow him to rub himself between Delilah's bare legs, probably leaving behind roughed patches of skin. Finally coming himself, making a mess of his favorite pants, Lance yowled like a tomcat, thrusting up a few more times before slumping behind Delilah, wrapping an arm around his waist to prevent him from sliding off.

Dean gulped, sucking air in forcefully, trying to not come himself. He backed up slowly, grasping the bar to keep himself upright. The guy, _Chad maybe? Was that his name? Did he tell me? _pressed some keys on the keyboard and popped out a tape from another box. It took Dean a few times to fully get a grip on the tape, _and himself, _and he clutched it to his chest, trembling all over. He nodded, swallowed, and practically ran out of Bangkok. Chad snickered. It had been awhile since he'd seen someone so affected just by watching, but _hey, whatever turns your crank_. He was just excited that it didn't look like he was about to lose his job.

Delilah sauntered out about fifteen minutes afterwards, Lance having left with a lingering, scorching kiss and promising to come again with a lewd wink. He motioned for his Shirley Temple that he'd abandoned earlier. Chad liked the kid; gave him some new ice to replace what had melted and another cherry. Delilah took a sip and sighed. Chad smirked at him, debating on whether or not to tell Delilah any of what had just transpired. Delilah usually took an interest in anything to do with that guy, Delilah's number one client and had been since Day One. Delilah had joined Bangkok not long after Chad had been hired. He hadn't been present for the attack and that Dean guy subsequently going crazy on him, but Chad had heard all about it from the other staff. Sun had been pretty tight lipped about the whole thing, that one time Chad was stupid enough to flat out ask her about the incident. Chad never made that mistake again.

"That guy was just here."

Sam glanced over the rim of his glass at Chad, eyebrows rising in question.

"You know. The one you're always with."

Delilah frowned, perplexed. He lowered the glass to set it down gingerly on the bar.

"But he was already here tonight. You mean he came back?"

Chad nodded, pursing his lips.

"Yup. Popped in looking for you, but you were, ah, occupied. He stayed for a few minutes and we chatted and then he said he was going home."

Delilah's eyes widened with something that looked a bit like fear. Chad let his confusion show on his face. Sam turned on his heel and bolted for the dressing room, not bothering to wait and answer the bartender's inevitable questions. He changed and wiped off the make up faster than ever before. _FUCK! If Dean gets home and I'm not there what the hell is he going to do? Not like I ever leave a note cause I always assume I'll be home before him... even if I say I went to Lexy's, it's pretty late. He'll probably assume I was up to no good over there and then he'll either tease me forever or just be more mad, but he'll be mad anyways because I didn't even mention anything about going to see her and he hasn't even been out that long and I know he has his phone, not like I couldn't have called him and told him she was having me over and I'll just be in trouble and I really DID NOT want to deal with this sort of thing..._

Sam spent the whole bus ride frantically checking his phone, knowing it was only a matter of time before a pissed off and worried Dean would be calling. By the time he'd gotten there, the Impala was parked in front and Sam hung his head, taking a few deep, calming breaths. Whatever Dean was going to say or do, he would just take it and accept his punishment. Hopefully whatever it was wouldn't be too bad. _He'll make that face at you. The one that says how clearly disappointed in you he is and you'll just want to melt and disappear forever. _Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts and eased open the door. It had only been locked in the bottom lock, which was pretty weird. Sam wasn't sure if Dean had noticed that the bottom lock didn't prevent someone from turning the knob a few times and being able to just walk in, but he'd thought that he had. It didn't matter, most of the time, because Dean would lock the top and bottom locks. Usually anyways.

Sam padded in, leaving his shoes by the door, and locking both locks behind himself. _No sense in leaving them open to anything that could turn a doorknob, even if Sam deeply suspected he was about to get totally chewed out. _Dean's shoes were conspicuously absent. His jacket had been hastily tossed to the ground. Sam could hear some noises, implying the T.V. was on or Dean had company. He felt a sudden wave of nausea before suppressing it quickly. _No way he'd have company. If he wanted to bring someone back here he wouldn't have stopped off at Bangkok first, right? _Sam peered around the corner. He was in no way ready for the sight that greeted him.

Dean had his pants shoved down around his thighs. His fist was wrapped around his cock, jacking it ever so slowly and loose, barely even giving himself enough friction. His other hand was holding the remote in a death grip. On the screen was Sam, or 'Sammi' rather, sucking off Lance. Sam felt a flash of deja vu, considering he was living this not an hour ago. The quality wasn't very good. Sam stood there, trying to figure out how this had happened. Firstly, Dean was usually overly possessive of Sammi, so watching him get someone else off wouldn't have been Sam's idea of good porn for Dean.

Secondly, _how the fuck did this get recorded? And then get into Dean's hands? _Sam vaguely remembered Sun mentioning something about surveillance cameras being hooked up to a T.V. for the bartender to watch. They'd recently been fixed up to try and avoid any more situations like the bathroom incident, but Sam had never guessed that it could be recorded. No way Sun would condone this. He'd never given permission for anything like this to happen. _Bet it was that bartender. Chad, his name is Chad. He's sleazy, always looking at me that way. Bet he was trying to make some money on the side, selling tapes or something. _Sam smiled with the grim satisfaction that the bartender would most likely be fired once Sun knew about this. He prayed that Dean was the only one with a copy of this. The last thing Sam wanted to worry about was who might have a copy or where this tape might go. He didn't want to think about that.

In the mean time though, there was now the issue that Sam was achingly hard and Dean was too absorbed in the video to notice that Sam hadn't been asleep in bed. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He turned and headed quietly for the bathroom to get himself off quickly and get into bed before Dean was any the wiser. Judging by the already crumpled tissues laying next to Dean on the couch, this wasn't his first time through watching the video. Hopefully, he'd be out there a little while longer while Sam fell asleep. Dean had an uncanny ability to always know whether Sam was sleeping or awake and he didn't feel like trying to converse at all tonight. He'd managed to avoid a confrontation again, by the skin of his teeth. He had to wonder though. _How much longer can I get away with this?_


	21. And So To Bed

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Beta'd by Miss Tam!

Sam dreamed that night of a time when he was six or seven years old when he'd told on Dean. They'd been sniping at each other for days. Too many hours spent in a car and not enough nights spent in a real bed as well as not enough money for much more than one crappy diner meal a day had meant that both Sammy and Dean were in foul moods. Their father wasn't much better off. Really, Sam couldn't even remember now what exactly Dean had **done **to finally make him snap, but he went and whined to their father, complaining about whatever it was and "Daaaaaaad! Make him stoooooop!"

John Winchester had had enough. His boys had been rowdy and Sammy was crying and being all around annoying and Dean was being obnoxious and there was only so much aggravation that one man could take. He snapped at his younger son.

"No one likes a tattle-tale Sammy."

Sam had gaped at his father while Dean had sat smugly across the car from him. Sam had withdrawn into himself for the rest of the day, his focus wavering back and forth between the confusion _but I thought that Mrs. Leevenson said to tell a grown-up when someone was being mean to you...? _and remembering the betrayed look on Dean's face when Sammy had first spoken up, raising his voice to be heard over Lynyrd Skynyrd. Dean hadn't spoken to him for a whole week after that. Sam had spent the nights tossing and turning with the accusing eyes of his father in his head and the resolution he'd made at the time, that he'd stuck to ever since, of never telling on anyone again.

Dean woke him up bright and early for a jog. It was late enough in the summer for the mornings to only be misty for about an hour after the sun came up before it was all burned off and the heat of the day could work on setting in. Dean never remembered to bother with sunscreen unless Sam sat down and made him. Remembering how warm it was the day previous, Sam made sure to do just that this morning. Sam still dragged his feet, wiping the sleep from his eyes and generally taking as long as he possibly could to go.

Dean finally hollered "Hey! We don't need Dad whooping our asses when he gets back because we haven't kept up with training right? The runs are gonna happen and if we stay in shape now it'll mean it's not so bad later! So hurry the FUCK UP!" Sam hurried up.

Their jog wasn't nearly as long as the one Dad would have sent them on. Sam tried to be grateful for small favors. As they ran companionably, side by side, Sam gave more thought to telling Sun about the bartender. On the one hand, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable complaint. He'd been taping Sam in compromising positions and _oh Jesus! I wonder if he was getting off, watching it behind the Temple? Bet there were some nice stains on the wood there that he had to clean up later. GROSS! _Not to mention the fact that he'd been selling the tape to make some money on the side. Whatever the clients paid, sure, Sun got a cut of it, but most of that cut went back to Bangkok, repairs, updating things, hiring new people, and everyone who worked there (besides the Pearls obviously)'s salaries. Sam knew Sun wasn't a cheapskate. Surely that bartender had to be receiving a decent salary or he wouldn't be working there in the first place.

No one ever says no when the opportunity arises to make some extra cash though. _You of all people ought to know that, what with your first hand experience and all..._ Sam mostly kept himself from blushing, glancing quickly at Dean from beneath his eyelashes. Dean seemed just as lost in thought as he was. Sam breathed a quick sigh of relief and returned to his dilemma. He realized that, if revealed, the man would do anything he could to try and keep his job. Sam felt a sinking feeling. He mentioned Dean by name. _Which means he could tell Sun that Dean asked him to record me or even just that he was the one who bought the tape. She could ban him from Bangkok_!

That settled it for Sam. Even if the whole thing felt this side of uncomfortable, no way was he chancing something bad happening to Dean. Even if the worst thing was being banned from the local whorehouse. Sam grimaced and then quickly hid it when Dean looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"C'mon Sammy! This is nothing! You must be really out of shape. Wow! I've been too easy on ya. Thought since it was summer you deserved a break, but if you're gonna be making faces like that at a brisk pace, well. We'll have to fix that, now won't we? Guess who'll be doing sets of push-ups and sit-ups when we get back?"

Sam didn't bother to correct Dean, just rolled his eyes and went along with it., When they got back, Dean revealed that he'd been out already that morning and had gotten some eggs, cinnamon, and toast for breakfast before Sam started the long list of exercises Dean had in store for him. Sam grinned widely, knowing that meant French toast. Sam **loved **Dean's French toast. Dean loved making it for Sam. Well, Dean actually just loved cooking in general, (not that he'd ever admit it except on pain of death), and Dean loved his little brother. _Yeah, especially the faces he makes when he's licking around his mouth trying to make sure he got every bit in his mouth and god the noises! The little whimper when the eggs are just perfect makes me wanna..._Yeah okay, maybe loved Sam a bit too much.

It certainly didn't help working out with him either. Sam was just now starting to grow out of his baby fat, arms and legs too long and bony, hands too big to be of any real use. He looked almost cartoonish, the way the proportions on him seemed to be all messed up. He was constantly banging into things, instinctually lengthening his stride whenever he walked next to Dean or Dad, except not realizing that his legs were longer now and tripping over absolutely nothing. When he wasn't thinking so hard though, he loped along with a grace that Dean knew he'd grow into eventually. His mouth nearly watered when Sam said he'd get started on all the push-ups and sit-ups before breakfast and stripped off his shirt, folding it neatly on a chair.

Sam just dropped to the ground, just outside of the kitchen. Dean was always critiquing his form or adding in extra challenges if it looked like things were getting to be too easy for him and so Sam always did the exercises with Dean around. Dean managed to watch both the bubbling eggs and his little brother. When he dipped the toast into the eggs and then flipped it into its own pan, the toast crackled and the sheen to it showed off a tiny bit of egg sliding down the side onto the pan. He focused on that instead of the beading sweat that was sliding down Sam's skin, getting caught in the waistband of his shorts. He cleared his throat when the toast was finally done.

Sam bolted down his breakfast and resumed the exercises. He was eager to be done and take a shower before the sweltering dry heat set in. He'd spent enough of the day sweating. He didn't need Dean looming over his shoulder, badgering him to work out. Although, he had a nasty feeling that Dean was going to make them practice shooting today. _Ugh. Guess if I'm gonna be sweaty and gross anyways, might as well take a shower now, try and cool down a little bit. _

Dean had watched with astonishment at how quickly Sammy had eaten. He'd then dropped back to the ground and Dean riveted his eyes on his fork and plate, taking slow, measured bites. He tried to think about the taste and the texture of the food, but that didn't manage to get his mind out of the gutter one bit. He finally sighed and gave up, leaning back. That was around the same minute Sam leaped up and walked quickly to the bathroom. Dean rubbed his eyes with the backs of his knuckles, pretending he didn't just focus on Sam's rear as he exited the room. _How am I supposed to ever get anything done around here like this?_

Dean heard the shower start. _What the-? We're gonna be exercising all day! What a waste of water! He had barely even broken a sweat, didn't need to do this at all. Waste! _He got up promptly to go bang on the door. Sam had been so preoccupied, first with stripping in record time, and then wrenching the handle over to cold that it never occurred to him to even close the door. The curtain was haphazardly pulled, although it was merely opaque and didn't do much to hide his skinny limbs. He was enjoying the cool water as it poured down on him; this was one of the only places they'd ever stayed in with good water pressure. _Ah... God this is great. Feels so good..._

Sam was hard and aching before he even had a chance to realize what was happening. He turned around so the spray could reach his back and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking ever so lazily. He wasn't even thinking about getting off right then, was just feeling pleasure and didn't know how else to express it. He groped his other hand behind himself, trying to rub in that spot behind his balls and apply pressure. The water's slickness was unaccounted for and he ended up pressing a finger into himself, sliding in smoothly. Sam moaned softly.

Oh. God, just a little to the side and press down and I think, maybe, it's around here somewhere, I know it is, what's it called again? Probate? Prostrate? Wait, that's lying down. Oh God, I wish I was lying down right now. Gotta try this sometime in a bed or on a floor or even a fucking table or something, steal some of Dean's lube, know where he keeps it with his girlie magazines, and OHGODFUCKYES.

He'd been worming his finger around, stroking the walls and clenching around himself, not sure whether the squeezing was his walls around his finger or his hand around his cock. Both hands sped up their ministrations. Sam threw back his head and let his mouth fall open, back arching. The water felt like it had dropped in temperature, felt steam rising off of his skin.

Dean couldn't take his eyes off the spectacle. He had his hand shoved down the front of his loose running shorts, cupping and rubbing himself, already knowing he wouldn't last very long. He couldn't decide if the rough, almost painful tugging was to hurry up and get off so Sam wouldn't see him or to just rip the damn thing off so that Sam would never see him.

God. Fuck. Such a goddamned pervert! Standing outside, watching a twelve year old boy jerking off in the shower. Four fucking years younger and his little brother of all things. Happy gay incest. _Jesus Christ. I'm like a disease. He'd be so much better off without me. He doesn't know it; won't ever know it if I have anything to say about it, but he would be. He's so young. So fucking young. Barely more than a kid._

Sam twisted his hand and shoved in harder, back bowing further and came, gasping, against the wall. Dean followed a split second later, eyes focused intensely on Sammy's hand, pretending he was the one opening his tight little ass up, the one thrusting in a few more times while Sam rode out his orgasm, holding him up as he slouched after such a mind-blowing feat. Dean swore quietly and ducked out to the kitchen to clean himself up. He caught sight of the knife that he'd once seen Sam cut himself with. Wildly, he wondered if it had made him feel better, if it helped relieve the pain?

Dean shook his head violently, clearing the destructive thoughts. There were better ways to punish himself. He didn't need to punish Sammy too. Sam would see it and somehow, instinctively, Dean knew Sam would blame himself if he saw Dean cutting. He couldn't bear to put that kind of burden on his baby brother. _The same baby brother you dream of fucking every goddamned night._

Dean sat down heavily at the kitchen table, resuming the spot he'd been sitting in not fifteen minutes ago. He toyed with his full glass of orange juice for a second before chugging it as he waited for Sam to come out of the bathroom.


	22. Lady Sings the Blues

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.  
>AN: Beta'd by the magnificent Miss Tam!

_Mmm that girl, what was her name? Mandy? Manda? Something like that? Whatever, that girl with the long black hair and Spanish accent that was waitressing at a diner a few states back. God, when she was on her knees and she opened the top button of my jeans with her tiny little hands, cool to the touch. It was so hot in that bathroom. And she licked it a few times, rolling the taste around in her mouth. Holding me still so she could smear the precome on her lips like a tasty gloss and looking up at me through her bangs before opening her mouth so wide and just taking in the tip, closing her lips around it and barely even sucking at all..._

Dean's hand sped up. He knew he didn't have long, had promised Sam he'd take him to the movies today since he hadn't been whining or anything lately.

_Got such beautiful eyes. Looking up at me, so soft and wide and brown, except now they're hazel and now they're sort of green, swirling around. Sammi. Sammi. Oh, yes, you do your job so well, do so good on me, everything feels so nice, still a little clumsy, even now, spit dribbling down into the thatch of hair, but it just slicks the way more and it feels so so good, like a piece of heaven and God, Sam, you know what you're doing, sort of anyway, and how can you possibly take that much of me into you? Know you can't have done this before, you're so little, barely turned 12 this year and taking me so so good, so wonderful to your big brother..._

Dean gasped and came all over the wall, jerking uncontrollably. Even after he'd come down enough to rinse himself, he ignored, how much he was shaking. It shouldn't have felt that awesome, been that intense. He smiled wryly to himself, without a hint of humor. _Shouldn't have happened at all, you perverted bastard._

"Deeeeeeeeean! Will you hurry up? We're gonna miss it!"

Dean grinned to himself and shut off the water. He was toweling off his arms and chest, listening to Sam pacing the hallway.

"You're gonna wear a hole in the floor! Don't blame me when you can't get out!"

He heard an exasperated sigh and Sam stopped walking, thunking his head against the door of the bathroom.

"That's not even possible. And it's not my fault you take forever when you shower. Such a girl, Dean."

Dean's pride refused to let that one go.

"Sammy, there are certain needs a man's got, you'll understand when you're older."

Dean laughed and started drying his legs, smoothing his hair at the back and rucking up the front, trying to get his hair to cooperate. He shoved the shower experience into a dark recess of his mind, the same place he stashed everything else that he didn't want to think about or mention. Meanwhile, Sam had turned cherry red, blushing through the tips of his ears.

"'Kay fine! Not my fault you take so long to rub one out!"

Dean opened the door and brushed past Sam on his way to his duffel. He knelt down and tried to find some clean clothes. _Laundry. Gotta remember to do that soon._

"Stamina Sammy. The girls will love you when you get it down. Or well, when you can keep it up."

He leered and Sam ducked his head, too embarrassed to continue the conversation. Dean didn't seem to get the hint though, _when does he ever?_

"And really? Rub one out? What are you, the mafia?" Dean mimicked a bad Italian accent. "Hey, Tony! Rub 'im out!"

Sam couldn't help but smile at Dean's antics.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"C'mon Dean. Let's go see what's playing at the theater."

"I already promised ya Sam. Not gonna forget you know."

Sam rolled his eyes hugely.

"Not saying you were. But it's a Friday and it'll be crowded and shit."

"Language!"

Sam gritted his teeth and didn't say anything, tried to be patient as Dean seemed to take forever to style his hair just so and bundle them both out the door. The movie theater was within walking distance, which was nice. It was early evening, the sun just beginning to contemplate setting and hanging low in the sky. It was warm from the day, but not scorching. Sam tossed his hair out of his eyes and enjoyed the day as they walked the couple of blocks to get there. Once there, they had to stand in line for longer than they'd expected. When they finally got to the front, there was only one movie that was starting soon that wasn't sold out. Seemed like everyone had decided this was a good night to go to the movies.

Sam grumbled a "told ya so" as they paid with a fake credit card and wandered inside, opting for some popcorn. Sam whined until Dean got gummy bears to sprinkle on top as well. The screening room of this movie, 'Jeffrey', was surprisingly almost empty. Dean pursed his lips like an old woman.

"God. I've never heard of this thing, you?"

Sam shook his head. Dean did too, but in disgust.

"Probably sucks ass."

Sam made a face at the image and Dean guffawed, elbowing him in the ribs. They didn't want to scuffle too much for the sake of the popcorn. But Sam vowed to get Dean back during the movie when he would least expect it. The movie turned out to center around two guys, falling in love and trying to live their ordinary lives. There was the added element of some social commentary on the AIDS epidemic and the whole movie was kind of depressing and not really what either of them had been thinking of when they'd wanted to see a movie. Dean showed no particular emotion on the gay subject, but Sam felt shifty. Not quite guilty, but worried that somehow this movie would clue Dean into all of Sam's antics. _That's ridiculous! It's just a fucking movie! Can you calm down?_

Sam couldn't though. He was trembling, spilling gummy popcorn on his lap. Dean looked over and did a double take. He leaned in, concerned.

"Sam? Hey! You with me?"

Sam nodded shakily, feeling on the verge of crying and simultaneously hating himself for it. Dean bit his bottom lip, sliding his arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him close. They never bothered having the armrest down between them so Sam slid over eagerly, small enough to share the seat with Dean. Dean's eyebrows flew up. It had been awhile since Sam had so readily come close for comfort in public. _Well, sort of public._ Dean amended mentally. _Hardly any people in here and it's dark anyway. There's those idiots who are sucking face in the back. Ugh. If anyone looked at us, Sam's hair is so long they'd probably think he was a girl._

Dean glanced down at Sam, who'd managed to stop shaking so hard, and smiled. He reached up and rubbed the back of Sam's neck with his thumb and Sam let out a small sigh, leaning heavily into the touch. _Hehehe, yeah I bet we look like we're on a date or something. Him being so tiny and all. Bet I could just turn his head a little and kiss him, so softly. That's really what movie theaters are for anyway. God knows I've gotten enough action in places like this. There's a reason these places are so dark. Perfect for getting a little something, coaxing it out of them, even if they're a little shy. Could get Sam to make those soft little noises he makes when he's sleeping, bet he'd sound like that when I got my hands on him, got my mouth on him-_

Dean jerked suddenly, flailing and almost falling out of his seat. Sam looked at him, grabbing him to keep him from going over. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Dean was standing up, muttering something about needing the toilet, and bolting from the theater. Sam felt vaguely nauseated, watching him go. Dean had been pale as a ghost, giving him the weirdest look. _Does he know? Has he figured it out?_Sam had managed to work himself up into quite the panic attack by the time Dean got back. Sam slid over to his own seat and they sat next to each other stiffly. Luckily, the movie was over soon and they didn't speak on their way back, both too busy thinking and watching the other one.

Dean decided firmly that he **needed** to get laid. He blamed his early thoughts on an overactive libido, being sixteen, and watching a movie with a couple of gay protagonists. _And that is the last time I am paying to watch a movie I know nothing about!_ It was perfectly reasonable that his mind had wandered to sex and that the mental sex had naturally involved whoever was with him at the time. And if that person happened to be his younger brother, well, it just meant that Dean needed to hurry the hell up with the getting laid business. He fervently ignored the voice in the back of his head claiming those were dumb excuses and that _I might try actually following the train of thought to see why or what I can do to make it stop. But, ignoring something is infinitely preferable to dealing with it, so..._

Dean continued to ignore it. Later on that night, he made his excuses to Sam and left, walking around for a little while before heading over to Bangkok. He'd thought that maybe a drink would help, but he'd barely sat down at the bar and flashed his fake I.D. _only a few more years until I can use my real one and how cool will that be?_when this guy started hitting on him. Dean smiled back, wondering if he could do this instead of going back to Sammi. The guy leaned close and started talking about how he'd noticed "God, your ass. So tight. Looks so damn fuckable, can't even begin to imagine. You have any idea what you look like; swaggering in through the door like you own the place, all perched on the edge of your barstool like that? Hmm?" By that point, Dean decided it was time to leave.

He wasn't opposed to having sex with a guy who wasn't pretending to be a woman, not at all. He was pretty opposed to bottoming though. It wasn't for the usual reasons though. Dean didn't think it would make him any less of a man or effeminate or anything like that. No, he'd even given it a try once, well sort of. It had involved a girl too adventurous for her own good, a strap-on, and Dean being **very drunk**. He shuddered a little, not at the memory itself, (he couldn't actually remember it that well anyway), but at the pain he'd suffered for the next couple of days. He'd sworn to himself that if he ever did that with a guy, there would be a lot more prep than he'd been allowed. _Chick had no idea what she was doing._

So, he sauntered into Bangkok, ready to finally go there with Sammi. He wasn't sure why they hadn't before. He grinned. _Guess she's that good huh?_ Sammi was just walking up from downstairs, an area where clients weren't allowed. He supposed it was the changing area or something. Sammi smiled invitingly at Dean and his cock twitched in his jeans. He always had a condom in his wallet, so that wasn't a problem. He gnawed on his lip, hoping that Sammi had some lube. He stopped briefly and almost laughed. _It's a whorehouse. God damn Winchester. Get it together. _

Sam wasn't surprised to see Dean. He'd been pretty edgy all day, restless and wandering around, unable to pay attention to anything for more than a short time. All classic signs of Dean Needs To Get Laid Right Now. Sam was happy to see him and somewhat giddy; Sam was beginning to wonder if the bartender of the night hadn't slipped a little something into his drink before he gulped it right down before returning below to finish his make up. He felt slightly light-headed and completely at ease, which wasn't a common feeling, especially in Bangkok. He sashayed over, humming under his breath. Dean noticed the flush adorning Sammi's cheeks and wondered if Sammi had been at the booze. He grinned, turning up the charm.

"I'm so glad you're here tonight."

"Yeah, me too. C'mon, there's an empty room. I get the feeling you're not here to chat."

Sammi smiled seductively and took a hold of Dean's wrist, scratching his nails ever so lightly over Dean's pulse, which promptly began racing. Dean followed eagerly as Sammi led him down a hallway and shut the door softly behind them. Dean turned and got his hands on Sammi, needing her clothes to come off **immediately**. Sammi chuckled, backing up a little to strip off her dress, way too slowly for Dean's liking. He growled and lunged for her, only to have her wiggle away, dancing just out of reach. His eyes darkened and he licked his lips. The second time he grabbed for her, Sammi let herself be reeled in, giggling the whole time. Dean leaned close to Sammi's ear, licking around the shell before blowing softly on it. As Sammi shivered, Dean whispered "Not gonna be giggling when I'm through with you."

Sam was frankly amazed at how fast Dean managed to have both of their clothes off. If he'd been completely in his right mind, he might have sensed that Dean was headed in the direction of all the way, but Sam was just enjoying being naked and manhandled around the room by Dean, whose voice was reaching registers so low Sam could barely make out what was being said. It hardly mattered: Dean was far past language. His noises were possessive and impatient and not a lot else.

But then Dean was gone and Sam missed the body heat, but only for a brief moment. Because Dean was back and Sam was squirming underneath him, barely able to draw breath, both from Dean's crushing weight on top of him and from such a heightened state of arousal. But then, Sam felt something slick and cold and finger-shaped at his hole and he froze.

Dean felt it and looked down, his finger still moving and it was only the pure terror on Sammi's face that managed to penetrate his lust filled haze. He blinked, sitting up and moving his hand away. Sammi was panting hard, trying to inhale enough to think clearly.

Sam tried to calm himself down hastily. _It's Dean! He's not gonna hurt you. He's never hurt you. Well, okay, but that was one time! And yeah, so maybe he doesn't know it's me, but he's not mean to the people he sleeps with. Is he?_Sam watched Dean looked curiously down at his own fingers, shining in the dim light from the lube he'd found. Sam bit his lip and shook his head.

"I don't um. I can't do that."

Dean looked puzzled, wondering if this was more of the hard to get act. It didn't seem like it, but he was never sure with Sammi. She was something of an enigma; more so than anyone else Dean had ever been with.

"Really?"

Sam felt slightly defensive and wrapped his arms around his middle.

"I do everything else, okay?!"

Dean held his hands up in surrender. He continued to keep his hands up while he came forward, never getting up from kneeling. He gently, without hurrying, wrapped his arms around Sammi's body and found her shaking. Guilt swamped him suddenly.

"Sssh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make you mad. Or scare you. Got too caught up. God, want you so bad, couldn't control myself. Won't happen again. I'm sorry."

Sam was shaking his head, trying to get the trembling under control and failing.

"S'not your fault. 's his fault. He made me like this."

Dean leaned closer and nuzzled behind Sammi's ear. _She talking about that guy I took out?_Sammi answered as if she'd read his mind.

"No. Not that guy. Different guy. From before I came here. S'why I came here in the first place."

Dean felt a tidal wave of rage sweep through his body. He had no idea why he was so protective of this boy; why he felt so many emotions towards him at all. He didn't want to think too hard about it, knew that he'd be leaving soon. He pushed the thought away. Sammi gave a short laugh and shook her head, trying to dismiss the topic. Dean held her tighter.

"You don't gotta say anything if you don't wanna. But I'm listening."

Sam knew it was stupid. There was nothing that could be done. It had happened and it was over. And no self-respecting whore would be sharing her life's story with a client of all people. None of this was making any sense. Not from Dean's willingness to stop, to him just holding Sam like this, rocking him almost imperceptibly, to being willing to just sit there and listen to some sob story. Sam was glad he hadn't taken Dean's money, would absolutely refuse it for this session. But, a rush of gratitude filled him at Dean's kindness, mixed with the urge to just tell Dean everything. To stop all the lying and the sneaking around. Well, he wouldn't confess everything just yet. But this was a story that he couldn't hold in any longer.

"I don't actually remember very much from that night. This guy, I can't even remember his face or anything about him, just came up and bought me a drink. It wasn't alcoholic, but it tasted...I'm not sure. Off. There was something weird in it. Then I blacked out. I was in a car, I think, and he... took me. I can remember his voice though-"

Sam broke off, choking on a sob. _God this was such a bad idea. Should have just kept my mouth shut about this._As the shakes wracked his body, Dean just pulled him closer. Sam buried his face in Dean's neck, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself. The scent of leather and gunpowder washed through his senses and calmed him. Dean spoke quietly.

"So did you, I mean. See someone? About it I mean? Cause, it, you know, if you were injured or, I guess, diseases-"

"A friend, um, took me to be tested the next day."

Sam felt Dean tense against him and felt hysterical laughter bubbling up. Sam had cut him off mid-sentence and he knew how much Dean hated when anyone did that, but Dean had been babbling at that point and Sam just wanted to finish the story as quickly as possible.

"Well, I was clean, at any rate."

Dean relaxed and just kept rocking Sammi. They sat together for a long time. Dean didn't know what to say and somehow just figured that being there was enough. _It's funny how much I care. She's someone I'm gonna have to leave soon. Whenever Dad gets back. We'll be moving on and I won't see you anymore. How'm I gonna deal with that? Wait, she's saying something._

"I have the worst nightmares, just tossing and turning and probably making all kinds of little noises."

Dean frowned over Sammi's head and shushed her, not loosening his grip in the slightest. _Funny that she mentions that... Sam's been having some pretty terrible nightmares lately. The things he's been saying, crying out for help... didn't he mention a car too? Thought he was talking about the Impala, but now? I just don't know..._ A small voice at the back of his head was steadily getting louder, asking why he cared for Sammi so much, why was her name Sammi? _Why did she seem so damn familiar? Why was his little brother acting so weird lately? Why was he?_ With effort, Dean silenced the voice and stayed in the present, continuing to work on calming Sammi down. He'd think about everything tomorrow.


	23. Taking it on the Road

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! So much love to the reviewers, I just wanted to say how happy I get when I see a new comment :D

In retrospect, there were many signs. If he'd been paying attention. If he'd really cared. If they had up and moved after a couple weeks the way they usually did. But it was summer and there father was gone and Dean had been spending too much time frequenting a brothel, doing almost everything imaginable with a whore, developing feelings for a transvestite instead of watching out for Sam. Instead of being a good older brother. He'd been jerking off in the shower to mixed images of a prostitute and his baby brother on their knees in front of him. Dean was angry and disgusted with himself, about **this close **to just leaving. Leaving everything behind. He sneered at himself in the mirror, gripping the porcelain sink edges so hard his fingers turned white. _Too cowardly. Can't live without Dad and Sammy. Can't go on without having them around, knowing they'll be there when you wake up. GOD. _

Dean punched the wall next to the mirror, embedding his fist where the indent from his last bout of temper had marred the wall. He took a deep breath and walked out to the couch where Sam was lounging with a book. Dean looked at him objectively.

_He hadn't been looking for incriminating evidence this morning. But when he'd woken to Sam already in the shower, well. After coming home from the bar, after Sammi's confession and subsequent falling apart, Dean had been suspicious. Suspicious because the things Sammi was saying, especially with the nightmares, definitely sounded like what Sam had been going through. He'd been trying to keep it from Dean, but Dean wasn't stupid. Maybe it was wrong, an invasion of what little privacy was left to his little brother when they lived like this, but Dean had wanted to know. Wanted to help. To make things right again. He'd gone looking for a diary of some sort. _

_What he'd found instead was a jacket. The jacket that Dean had been admiring a while back. In one pocket was the receipt from the purchase. Dean's eyebrows shot up at the price; he'd been assuming Sam had gotten it from a second-hand shop or at least on a discount. Apparently not. And when he'd moved the jacket, he found a small bag wedged behind it. At that point, Dean was too curious to stop. He hauled out the bag and pawed through it, unable to accept what his eyes were seeing, what his brain was screaming at him. There was some make-up. A pair of low heels. And a couple of dresses, wadded up in the corner, around a few pairs of cute panties. A pretty rhinestoned headband and a few hair clips in a plastic baggie. And underneath it all was money. Cash. A lot of cash. _

_Dean zipped up the bag and pushed it back under the bed, toying idly with the jacket. He felt a sinking sensation, his stomach turning and twisting into knots. He was glad he hadn't eaten anything that day or it would have been revisited immediately. Sammy. Sammi. They couldn't be. He would have known. Right? Some internal alarm would have gone off? The Devil's Advocate voice in his head smiled cruelly. That alarm had been broken for a long time and he knew it well. And if he'd ever suspected anything, he'd buried those suspicions deep, away from daylight awareness. He was a sick bastard and something needed to change. He needed to get away from Sam. Before Sam had a chance to change his mind and they did something they couldn't take back._

_Well, not like they hadn't already, but Dean knew what he meant. _

He shoved himself off of the wall and approached Sam quietly. He stood in front of him and waited for Sam to get the memo and put the book down. Give him his full attention. Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. This might be the last time he saw his baby brother. Maybe. Probably not though. He couldn't exactly abandon Sam, not while Dad was still gone and still didn't have a set return date. Dean couldn't see any way this could go even marginally ok. They'd avoid each other studiously until Dad got back. Dean would confess and hang his head. Dad would take him out back with his shotgun and quietly dispose of his body, taking Sam and never looking back.

Dean smiled ruefully to himself. _Well, if Dad doesn't do it, I certainly hope he at least leaves me a gun or a knife. Not like I can live with myself anyways. Not like I can live without Sammy. _But even so, this was the last time that Sam would look up at him like that, the last time they'd be able to make eye contact, the last act of an older brother who'd violated everything he'd ever wanted desperately to protect. He had to swallow a few times before he could find his vocal cords and remember how to speak.

"Sam."

Sam looked up at him expectantly. At the look on Dean's face, Sam felt an icy chill run down his spine. Somehow, he just knew. _It's over. It's all over now. _

"Dean-"

Dean held up his hand, asking for silence. Sam closed his mouth so abruptly he bit his tongue and winced. Dean looked at him, concerned and Sam had to marvel that Dean still cared about him. It gave him a little bit of hope for the ensuing fight. Dean wished it hadn't come to this. Wished it didn't need to be like this. _He'd been hoping fervently that somehow, none of this meant what he thought it meant. But, underneath one of the tightly tied wads of cash, he found a note, from someone named Sunshine to Sammi. And he sat back on his heels, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that all of his worst fantasies hadn't been fantasies for a long time._

"Why?"

Dean's voice was hoarse, his throat felt scratchy. He swallowed a few more times, waiting. Sam had wanted to see if it was a rhetorical question or not.

"For the money."

Sam's voice was soft, but clear. Dean began pacing, unable to stand still any longer.

"Dammit Sam! There are other ways!"

Sam nodded, sucking his lower lip inside his mouth. _No point in denying anything now or trying to make excuses. I'll just answer his questions and take whatever punishment he decides. Maybe he'll leave for a drive afterwards and I can just slip out. Out of his life. It would probably be the best thing for everyone. _Sam couldn't think beyond his hesitant plan. He was twelve and he looked it. There really wasn't anywhere he could go. Sure, Lexy might take him in for a while, but she was in college and had a lot of other things to worry about. Sam already felt bad for everything he'd done to impose on her so far; he couldn't ask that of her. Bobby would just call John. Pastor Jim might allow him to work at the church...and as far as he remembered Jim and his father were still on the outs from their last argument.

"If you needed money, you should have come to me for it. Why couldn't you have just said something? You know I'd have done anything-"

"That's exactly why!"

Both boys seemed startled by Sam's outburst, the first sign of emotion he'd shown yet. Sam shook his entire body.

"I wanted to be able to help! I wanted us to have nice things for once, maybe afford to go to a nice restaurant for the holidays, for us to have new clothes for school and not just discount store ones."

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He tried so fucking hard to make sure Sammy had everything he needed, tried to get everything he'd ever wanted! Why couldn't it have been enough? Not for the first time, Dean felt anger coursing through him at his father. If he'd gotten a job and they'd stayed in one place, they might have had everything turn out okay. Dean knew he had other relatives, ones John had never mentioned or bothered to introduce them to. They would have helped. Dean inhaled and exhaled loudly, trying to keep a grip on his temper. Sam saw the anger flit across his face and thought it was directed at him.

"Sam, this wasn't your responsibility. It still isn't."

Sam figured that Dean was already pissed so what did he have left to lose? He exploded.

"Stop it! Just stop! I'm not a baby anymore! You don't have to always take care of me! Don't you think I love you too? That I want to help out? That I want to contribute? I wasn't doing this for me! I was doing it for you, for us!"

Dean's brain stuttered to a halt over "doing it for you". He felt a tsunami of guilt flood him and his entire body sagged. He scrubbed a hand over his face and wanted to cry.

"I'm the oldest. I'm your big brother Sammy. It's my job!"

"So let me help!"

"No!"

Dean roared, letting his frustration with everything show through his voice. Sam flinched while Dean spun around, resuming his pacing. Sam stood up, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I know Dad told you it's your job but-"

"This isn't about Dad!"

"Can you stop defending him for a goddamned second? It's his fault anyways-"

"He does the best he can!"

"No! He doesn't! And if you'd stop for a minute and actually think for yourself for once, instead of following everything he tells you like it's a fucking Gospel-" Dean snarled and cut him off.

"Yeah, okay. Fine, I start thinking for myself and then what? All I think about then is how good you'd taste and-"

Dean actually clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes comically wide. Sam was floored. Dean was too. Sam stepped closer, but Dean started backing away, shaking his head slowly, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Sam continued to step closer as Dean winced away. Sam held up his hands in a placating manner and stopped, shushing Dean softly.

"Hey. Okay, look I'm staying still, okay? Look at me Dean."

Dean shook his head violently and squeezed his eyes shut. Sam's tone was pleading.

"Dean."

Cautiously, Dean opened his eyes. Sam was standing there, looking every bit as freaked out as Dean. Wildly, he thought he was glad at least that Sam wasn't trying to be completely calm and rational about this because he didn't think he could handle that right now. Sam carefully walked closer until he was standing, their chests inches apart. Sam leaned up on tiptoe and for a crazy moment, Dean was horrified that Sam was going to kiss him. Instead, Sam brushed his puckered lips over Dean's cheek, butterfly wings ghosting over the skin. Dean's eyelids fluttered. Sam pulled back and continued watching him. Idly Dean wondered why he felt so disappointed.

"Why can't we have this?"

Dean blinked. Twice.

"What?"

His voice was dry and raspy. Sam tried again, not breaking eye contact.

"This. Whatever you wanna call it-"

"Incest?"

Sam flinched at the word and Dean instantly wanted to take it back. Resolutely, Sam squared his shoulders and continued.

"Okay. Yeah. Why can't we have that?"

Dean just stared.

"Are you insane?"

Sam cocked his head slightly, looking for all the world like a puppy. Dean felt a scream bubbling up in his throat and shoved it down hastily.

"You're too young."

Sam just watched him.

"It's wrong."

"So's almost everything we do in life."

Dean ran his fingers through his hair, feeling more desperate than ever.

"You don't, I mean. Sam, I know you love me, but you're too young. To really know. I can't do this to you."

Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"I can't. I just can't. It's wrong. And you're smart Sam. You could actually do something with your life."

Sam looked at him, questioningly.

"What, like college?"

Dean waved his hands, gesturing crazily.

"Or anything! Anything you wanted! I'd make sure you could! I'd do anything you needed me to, but please. Please Sam. This is wrong. This isn't what you want. Fine, some of it's Dad's fault for making us everything to each other, but listen. It's too late for me. I'm screwed. I'm just plain fucked up."

"Let me be fucked up with you."

"No! I want better for you! I want you to be happy!"

"You make me happy."

Dean was shaking his head. There was nothing he could say. Sam was just like their father. Once he had an idea between his teeth, he never let it go. But that didn't mean he had to go along with it. He just...needed some time. Time to think. Get everything straightened out. Maybe he could leave. Go somewhere else. Sure, Sam would miss him for a while, but eventually he'd move on. He'd find some pretty girl. As much as the thought made Dean's chest ache, he knew Sam could go on without him.

"Sammy...I need to go out."

Sam looked up at him, stung.

"What?"

"Just, for a little while. I just need some alone time. To think about everything, figure out what to do."

"There's nothing to do! Stay with me. Please Dean. Please. Be with me. I love you. I love you so much. I'll do anything. I won't keep secrets from you again, I'm so sorry. Please..."

To Dean's horror, Sam slid down to his knees, openly weeping. He lightly grasped the hem of his jeans.

"I'll be so good. Do anything you want. Anything at all. Please don't leave me. Please. I'll never mention it again, won't talk about it, won't try anything. Please Dean. Oh God don't go!"

Sam sniffled, not bothering to wipe away the mixture of tears and snot accumulating on his face. And that right there. Was why Dean couldn't leave. Or at least, couldn't leave permanently. He was kidding himself about Sam living without him. Maybe for a little while. If he went to college. Grad school. Whatever. But not forever. He couldn't do it. Dean sighed, feeling his eyes prickling with his own tears. He settled his hand on Sam's shoulder. He choked back a sob at how eagerly Sam twisted his whole body towards the hand, nuzzling it and butting his head into it like a kicked dog, always coming back to its master for more.

"Just for a little while. Just need to clear my head."

Sam sobbed harder. Dean removed his hand and Sam mewled at the loss. Dean began to walk away and saw Sam crawling after him on his hands and knees.

"Sam. Stop."

Sam froze, rocking back on his heels, his hands clenching and unclenching on his lap. Dean turned away and opened the door, looking back one last time at his destroyed little brother, the person he loved more than anything in the world, the one he was supposed to take care of, and hated himself more than he'd ever let on as he quietly shut the door behind him.

Sam began to wail, rocking back and forth on the floor, alternately hugging his knees and digging his nails into his fleshy palms. He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough. Not strong like Dean. Dean who was so perfect and good and why did Sam have to ruin everything like this? Of course Dean deserved better. Someone who wasn't so messed up. Someone who wasn't his baby brother. Sam began laughing hysterically, unable to tell his sobs from laughs.

Without quite being aware of himself, he crawled to his bed, yanking off the clothes he was wearing. He wasn't good enough to be related to Dean. Wasn't good enough to be a Winchester. Or anything else for that matter. How could he do this to Dean? His throat began to hurt and he became dimly aware of the fact that he'd been screaming please over and over again. He just wanted Dean to come back. He didn't have to leave. It's Sam who should be leaving. Before his scum and darkness could taint Dean's purity. He was so good. So wonderful. Everything anyone could ever ask for in a person. In a protector. He hoped Dean wouldn't blame himself too much. It wasn't his fault. Sam was just wrong. There was something wrong with him and it wasn't Dean's fault at all. Could never be.

Sam finished dressing himself in a dress and slipped some ballet flats on. He didn't bother pinning his hair back. He knew he looked like a wreck. Looked like a loony. Not like he would last long anyways. He just wanted to find somewhere nice, to finally rest. Somewhere with flowers. He snagged the hunting knife his father had given him on his twelfth birthday. A mere few months ago. He laughed bitterly. At least it would be used for its purpose. After all, he'd be putting down a monster.

He stopped briefly to write a letter to Dean, explaining things. He'd leave it up to Dean how much he wanted to explain to their father. He bundled all of the money into the jacket pockets and left it draped over the couch, right where he knew Dean would find it as soon as he got back. He nodded to himself as he took a final look around before he walked out the door, being sure to lock and close it behind him.


	24. Taboo

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Beta'd by the lovely Miss Tam!

Warnings for attempted suicide and a suicide note.

When Dean returned home, he was pretty drunk. He stumbled in through the door, listing from side to side. When he couldn't find Sam anywhere, he swore loudly, figuring that Sam had copied him and gone out to think about things. Except that when he flopped down wearily on the couch to wait for Sam to come home, _and boy would he rip that kid a new one for going out this late, but I guess it's not like he hasn't been going out and coming home far later into the night than this for some time now, and fuck! I really hope that's not what he's out doing right now because I don't think I'd be able to deal with anything else right now. Too fucking out of it, _he found the jacket, that fucking jacket, draped over the couch. He'd sort of fallen on it when he'd sat down, gracelessly. He fumbled with it for a second, laying it carefully over his lap. Sammy had spent a lot of money, _among other things, _getting him that jacket and damn him if he wasn't going to treasure it like everything else Sam did for him.

Except there was money in the pockets. Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline as he started pulling out wads and wads of cash. Fuck! That was a ton of money! Why was Sam giving him all of his… earnings? Dean felt a little queasy and pushed the memories away of how exactly Sam had come into the money, trying to focus on the situation at hand and suddenly, Sam being out seemed a little more sinister than he'd previously thought. On top of all of the cash were 2 folded notes. One was very short, a half page long and the other was a little longer, taking up a whole page, and had Dean scrawled on top.

Dean squinted down, trying to read the letter addressed to him. The words were fuzzy and swimming before his eyes, the alcohol in his system making reading more difficult. Also, there were blotches all over of tears and snot, maybe, dripping down and ruining the paper, making it thin and the letters in the words all run together. Dean blinked and shook his head rapidly, determined to make out the words. As he read, he felt himself becoming more sober by the second.

Dear Dean,

For the record, it wasn't supposed to be like this. At all. Dean laughed quietly, saying "No shit Sherlock." You weren't supposed to find out about everything like that and I know it probably sucked cause you're out drinking enough to drown a small lake because your idiot brother is an idiot. Dean grinned ruefully. He was going to have to remember to tease his little brother about saying he was going to drown a lake with his alcohol consumption. _Lakes can't drown!_ I was going to tell you, someday. Not today, but the end of the summer or something. It doesn't really matter now. It's done and I can't take it back. Dean's smile faded.

I won't try and make you understand because I don't even fully understand it myself. It hurt. I should have told you. I've made so many mistakes Dean banged his head against the couch, hating himself a little bit more, _is that even possible at this point?, _for everything that had happened. Please don't blame Lexy or try to contact her, that's not where I'm going and I haven't spoken to her in days. She tried to stop me, tried to get me to tell you, tried everything she could think of and took me to the hospital when I did what I was going to do regardless. She's been nothing but kind. Dean racked his brain. _Hospital? When the fuck did Sammy go to the hospital? After what happened when I took care of that guy? _Dean felt his stomach heaving and tamped down on the feeling impatiently. _Or what he told you, what he was having nightmares about? That must be it. _

In any case, I guess I'm hoping that this will make things easier for you. You can go on hunts with Dad whenever you want since you won't have to look after me anymore. You can graduate high school.Dean almost smiled. It was such a Sam thing, in the midst of everything, to start nagging Dean about school. He could almost imagine his geeky brother here, now, yelling at him for missing too many days or not doing his homework. Dean yearned for Sam to do that, to yell at him, to just be here right now. I hope you'll stay in school. I know it's not your thing and I'm not saying you have to go to some prestigious college somewhere. I know that college and hunting wouldn't mix because you hate settling down in one place, but maybe you could do a community college or something like that. Maybe they have classes where you just read the textbooks and write essays and answer tests and it works by mail. I don't really know, but it might be worth a shot. Dean scoffed a little. Mail college? What the hell was that? _Sammy probably just made that up, pulled it out of his ass. No way that would ever catch on. Don't people just love the whole I'm living at my school sort of thing? That's as ridiculous an idea as I've heard in a long time._

I know you think you'll be hunting for the rest of your life and maybe you will, but it's a just in case sort of thing. What if you get hurt? Not enough to die, Jesus Christ you better not or I will be so fucking mad, but so that you can't hunt anymore? (BTW if you die before you're supposed to, in some kind of hunting accident, I will make sure you spend a few years of the afterlife suffering!) Dean vaguely wondered how that would even be possible. On the other hand, if anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Sam.

I could even see you, older, settled down in some small town in middle America, owning your own car shop, like Uncle Bobby. You would help out with local hunts and provide information to hunters on the road, but Dean someday, and don't try and say no and only the good die young and going out in a blaze of fucking glory because no that's not the way to do things and you damn well know better, someday you'll be too old. Dean would never admit it, but he'd had visions of being older too, maybe Dad's age or something, settling down somewhere with Sam. They could get a dog, one of those huge mutts that Sam was always attracting whenever they walked around a park, and have a big backyard for it to run around in. He always figured they'd be the ones to take over Singer Salvage Yard when Bobby got too old to handle fixing up cars anymore. Maybe they'd rename it Winchester or something. In some of his wilder dreams, Dean had idly toyed with the idea of them adopting a kid, but quickly dismissed it.

Not too old to be of use to anyone, that would be never. What is Dad always saying you act like? God's gift to women? Well, we can add men to that list too, although you don't have to tell Dad to mend his statement. Dean shuddered.

Speaking of which. Tell Dad whatever you think is necessary. I completely understand you not wanting to share our briefly changed relationship with him. In fact, it sort of makes me want to curl away under a rock to think of Dad knowing about that... stuff. Anyways, I understand that he'll be pretty mad and there's another note, under this one, that you can show him. _Jesus Sam, Dad is not who I want to be thinking about right now. Not the one I'm concerned about. I don't give a flying fuck about Dad right now. Where are you? Why haven't you come back yet? _That'll be the 'public' note. This is the private note. For your eyes only, okay? _Yeah, okay Sammy._

I love you Dean. I've always been yours and nothing will ever change that. I'm really sick. I know. There's no excuse for my behavior and tricking you like that and I know you don't really feel that way about me and anything you might have done or said was either done or said because you didn't know it was me or because you're so good at taking care of me. And you are. Please don't say this is your fault because it isn't. Dean barely even noticed that the wet splotches on the paper were increasing and growing in size. He wasn't sure when he started crying and at this point, he didn't care. There's something wrong with me. Something inside me. Like a darkness. In my soul. And maybe that sounds melodramatic, but it's true. The laugh that Dean gave at that was high-pitched and choked with tears. God, his brother was so young. When he was being philosophical and brilliant and sexy sometimes people, Dean included, had a tendency to forget it, but he was just so **young. **

You're my brother. It's not right that I know what you taste like. That I know what your face looks like when you're coming and all that. But I do. And I know I've always said that knowledge is good and power and all of that shit, but maybe that's not always true. Maybe sometimes, people can't live with what they know because it's so wrong. Do you believe in Hell? I do. Dean blinked at the abrupt change in topic, but figured that Sam wasn't really in his right mind when he wrote the letter. All the more reason to find him quickly. He was tempted to drop the letter and go, but he couldn't take the chance that Sam would say, somewhere farther down, where he was going and save Dean precious time.

Anyways, don't bother looking for me. Or, well, I guess you could. I can't decide which would hurt you more. Maybe just wait a little while? I mean, maybe having a body to bury, or burn I guess in our case, Dean felt like he couldn't breathe, would provide closure to you and Dad. _Closure Sammy?_ And I know you've spent a really long time taking care of me and protecting me and I don't want you to think of this as you failing because it isn't. I failed. You did everything right, but I wasn't strong enough. Dean was unconsciously shaking his head no.

But, I think, because I knew you. Because you influenced me and took care of me and everything, because I knew you, some of that darkness in me was lifted. You changed me, in a good way. Changed me for the better, I think anyway. Don't think I would have been a good person, wouldn't have been alive even, wouldn't have been your Sammy, without you. You changed me, made me into who I am. Or, well, by the time you read this letter, who I was. Changed me for good. Dean's whole body was wracked with sobs. He was shaking violently.

_I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry._ I wanted to climb and get over a hill. A small hill, and see what I'd find there. And I'll lay my head back down and lift my hands and pray. Dean paused to wipe the back of his hand across his face. More tears spilled over and he began chanting that it was his fault, all his fault, out loud unknowingly.

Yeah, I still pray. I know you don't, haven't in a long time. _You're wrong Sammy. _But I think there is a god and angels and with everything we've seen, everything we know about, is it so hard to believe? I know, it gets harder to believe, but be honest. You really think there's nothing more? _If there was a God, he wouldn't let you do this. I should have stayed. Why did I leave? Why did I walk out that door? _Sure, you say 'Why doesn't he come down here and tell me himself?' And you throw up your hands and I realize this is just a waste of time like every time I throw a penny down a well. Dean thought, with all the force of rage and protectiveness that if there was a God, Sammy better still be alive and he better find him in time. If he did, well, he'd do anything. Anything at all. Whatever God might need of him, Dean would do it. Not that Dean could imagine anything an omniscient being might need a lowly human boy who couldn't even take proper care of his baby brother, but still. If he could just get his Sammy back, safe.

Wanna know what I pray for? If there's a god, I bet he's ashamed I use my holy prayers for something so sick and wrong. But I've always prayed to be yours, only yours. Dean's shoulders hunched in and he sobbed brokenly. _Don't you know Sammy? I thought you knew. I've always thought you knew. We belong to each other and we always have. _Because I've known for a long time that you've always been my only redeeming quality, my only salvation, my only hope. Dean had always thought the same thing about Sam. Salvation, Dean. It's a funny word. They say it's free, but who are they to say anything?

When you find me, you'll probably laugh. Dean fervently hoped with every fiber of his being that Sam would be laughing with him. I'm going to make sure there are flowers in my hair for when you get over the hill and see. Because I like flowers and maybe that makes me a girl or less of a man, but I don't think I was ever very much a man anyways so maybe it just doesn't matter to me anymore. Maybe it never mattered to me. I'd be your girl for you, you know. Or, I mean, I would have. I think you like girls better anyways. Maybe you can get married someday, stop treating girls like just hook-ups. Get married and have some kids. You know how good you always are with kids. Dean's hands were shaking. _Always had to be good with kids cause I was always taking care of you Sammy. And oh God, you're still just a kid. No matter how grown up you sound and think you are, no matter what you've been forced to do or done willingly, you're still only a kid baby boy. I'm still just a kid. _

I love you Dean. Always have and always will.

Your Sammy

Dean dropped the letter on the floor, stepping on it in his scrambled haste to get to the bedroom. He checked and saw that Sam's things were all still there. His mind raced. The letter hadn't seemed like a bluff, but where would he have gone anyways? He didn't have a car or even a bike? He glanced haphazardly around the room and his stomach sank. Sam's knife. The one Dad had just given him for his birthday. Dean let out a strangled laugh. That birthday didn't seem like it had been that long ago, a couple of months at most. And they'd done so much and come so far since then. Dean was chanting, a prayer on his lips over and over again.

Dean turned and sprinted for the door, knowing he had to get to Sam before he found that hill of flowers. It seemed like Sam was always breaking his heart. And maybe they were destined to keep hurting each other, forever and always, But Dean didn't like to give credence to destiny. He never wanted people to tell him what tomorrow holds, or what force is was in control. He'd keep fighting. For himself and for Sam. But they had to fight together. Had to be together, no matter what tried to tear them apart. As long as they were together, they'd kick destiny's ass.


	25. Sunday in the Park with George

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N:This chapter has been beta'd thoroughly by the unceasingly amazing Miss Tam

I would like to give a special thanks to poseidon'sdaughter22, alykat14, Terezi Pyrope, Blazing Ocean, NotaPunk, melitta4ever, ImpalaAngel13, and everyone else who has been so faithfully reviewing this story. Honestly, I am terrible at finishing things, so the fact that I have 4 chapters left to write and have written this much for what was initially a tiny plot bunny is sponsored by (re)viewers like you.

George frowned. He'd never seen anyone else in this area of the city. It was a secluded miniature park; a place used for meditation and introspection, at least for George. He happened to know it was also an excellent spot for a mid-afternoon nap and a place the police never thought to check.

He'd just awoken from a deep nod, having arrived back at the abandoned building he'd been squatting in for a month with his eight nearest and dearest, in time to share a hit with Alonso. It had been a good hit and he'd been out for nearly an hour before he finally opened his eyes. What with Dmitri recently moving in, space had been at a premium inside and the sheer amount of people living in the place had reached a breaking point. There were rules and things to be abided by. Technically Paige owned the place, (nobody was quite sure how she'd managed that), but she did and she didn't charge rent really, except that people had to help out with the odd chore, here and there, and someone always had to have a morning hit of dope ready for her. All in all, it was a pretty good deal for people accustomed to being homeless.

Paige was a nice, sweet girl. Everyone lamented the fact that she was hooked. She was smart too, could have really made something of herself, or found herself a nice man and settled down. Her sister came by, (or was it her niece?) every now and then, to give her money from something; a business the girl owned. Something about how Paige had given her a lot of motivation and a good idea and the girl - what was her name again? - somehow felt obligated to share some of the profits with Paige. She'd buy Paige clothes and groceries, generally looked out for her. The girl stopped by maybe once a month, always cried when she had to leave that she'd come back as soon as she could and couldn't Paige ever come by sometime? But in any case, Paige owned the place.

So when Dmitri had come crying for a place to rest his head, Paige had been taken in by his sad face and withered frame. She'd wavered, but the fact of the matter was, they really couldn't fit any more people in there. So Dmitri, wanting to win his way into her heart, had hit a lick hard, bringing back enough mattresses for everyone who already lived there, including himself, to have a soft place to sleep. By cramming the mattresses together, they were even able to clean up the place a little bit more. Paige had been ecstatic and frankly, any excuse for George to be able to sleep on a mattress was a good one.

George liked Dmitri and didn't mind sharing the mattress or living space with him. He didn't smell like some of the others. God, sometimes Ernesto smelled so bad that Paige and the others would all kick him out until he found somewhere to bathe. He had something wrong with him, something about his bowels being angry or some syndrome, but whatever was the problem, he was always shitting his pants. Dmitri had gotten a plastic sheet to put over Ernesto's mattress so it could just be removed and rinsed with water and bleach instead of ruining a perfectly good mattress.

So George had nodded off for an hour or so on his mattress, relishing the cloud-like feeling of sleeping on something that wasn't concrete ground for the first time in way too long for his taste, when Paige had come in shouting with glee. Apparently, she'd found a ceramic vase and was going to use it for decoration. She'd wanted flowers to put in it though and had offered to do the laundry of the first person that could get her some. George had gone awhile without having washed his clothes and figured it couldn't hurt none. It helped that his part time job, not the construction worker one but the other one, was as a gardener. He loved plants, especially flowers. He'd been made fun of in his youth by other boys. They were jealous of his sensitivity and his green thumb was what his Momma had always told him. And Momma had always been right after all.

So, George and Gething, George's imaginary turquoise elephant, went for a walk to one of George's favorite spots. It was semi-secluded and was tall enough to almost be called a hill. The ground rose subtly and George's care ensured that flowers were large, healthy, and plentiful. It truly was a beautiful spot. George swayed in place, admiring his handiwork with the flowers. His gaze returned to the figure lying over the top of the lilac bush. Something was off about the entire scene. He tilted his head slightly.

At first glance it appeared to be a sleeping girl. George was vaguely reminded of another girl sleeping in a field of flowers, but those were poppies and this was definitely a lilac bush. The figure was in a dress, but the groaning emitted by the figure, upon Gething's poking and close inspection, sounded distinctly male. Gething nosed at a large knife near the right hand, seemingly dropped and forgotten among the flowers. George's frown deepened. He dropped to his knees for a closer look. Gething looked at him worriedly.

The boy, (George was going with boy), had his right arm flung out haphazardly to the side and was bleeding profusely from his arm. George was willing to bet the other arm was bleeding too, but it was face down. George peeked curiously to see what the left hand was doing. It seemed to be twitching along the inside thigh and George blushed a little as Gething held the skirt away. The boy had cut a name into a fading bruise on the inside of his leg. Dean

George wondered if Dean was the one who had done all this. Gething shook his head and leaned in, listening to the boy's grunts and groans. Upon leaning closer, George determined that it sounded like the boy was appealing to Dean not to leave him, please, please, he'd do anything, he'd do better, he'd do whatever he wanted. George wondered why this Dean had abandoned this poor thing. Speaking of the poor thing, Gething wrapped his trunk worriedly around the boy's arm and lifted it slightly, allowing George to see the full extent of the wounds. He chewed his lip, wondering what to do. He glanced at Gething. Gething tilted his head to the side and looked down at the boy with big eyes, tears forming in the corners.

George hated to see Gething so upset, wondered why for a brief moment until it came to him. This little boy, honestly he couldn't be much older than eleven or twelve, looked like... someone he couldn't quite remember: Someone who used to be important to George. George furrowed his brow, thinking hard and trying to remember. He was important and George felt terribly guilty for not remembering...

Gething made an unhappy snorting sound, distracting George from his depressing thoughts. There were many repressed memories, many reasons to be out of house and home, many reasons to be so righteous in his dope addiction. But George didn't have time to think about all of his problems, all of his own shortcomings and how he'd failed before, failed the boy who'd been more important to George than anyone else in the world and how George could never look in a mirror afterwards. It was about here, now, and this boy. Put in front of him as a sort of redemption from a God George hadn't believed in for many years.

Gething helped as best he could and George hefted the slight boy into his arms, stumbling in the general direction of the hospital. Gething kept pace and continually nudged him in the right direction, even catching George with his rough side when he stumbled slightly, unused to carrying anything bridal style. Gething had picked up the knife, holding it with his trunk carefully away from the boy. George sort of wondered why Gething had bothered to bring the hateful knife, but was too out of breath from carrying the boy to ask.

Eventually, George found the hospital, one he'd visited a few times in the past. He'd suffered some skin abscesses before and had gotten some skin grafts in the past and had been a part of a few tests in order to earn a little bit of money. The harried nurse took one look at George and tried to usher him right back out, recognizing him as lower than the lowest street scum.

George protested loudly, calling the nurse by name, Stuart he remembered, trying desperately to explain that he wasn't here for himself, not another issue due to his constant living in squalor, injecting illegal substances in less than hygienic conditions, or anything like that. This little boy needed help, please, don't you understand that he needs help?

Stuart reluctantly looked at the boy and saw the self-inflicted wounds and that he was unconscious and paled considerably. George felt somewhat gratified as Stuart began yelling and pretty soon a gurney emerged for the boy. Once the boy had been taken away for stitches and an I.V. and everything else to make him feel better, Stuart turned back to George.

He got the standard procedure. Were you there when this happened? Do you know his name? Are you sure it's a boy; that was a dress you know? Do you know what he did this with? Yes, George had the answer for that in his coat pocket. Gething had cleverly slipped the large knife into George's pocket. George made sure to ask Stuart to please be very careful with the knife because it looked like someone had taken good care of it and the knife was in excellent condition.

Stuart gave George a strange look, but shook his head and gave some other nurse or something the knife and asked that it be put with John Doe's effects and yes he did say John, not Jane. George watched the flurry of people around him. He was disappointed that he couldn't answer any of the other questions, but when he asked if it would be okay for him to stay to see if the boy would be all right, Stuart's eyes softened. He nodded and gestured towards the waiting room and George was glad that he'd managed to clean himself up yesterday evening.

In the end, he didn't actually have to wait for very long. Well, it could have been a long time, but George had never been very good at keeping track of time and since he'd become a dope fiend that had just gotten worse. But Stuart was very nice to him the whole time. At one point, he gave George a voucher to get some food down at the cafeteria of the hospital, for which George was very grateful. He also got another male nurse to lead George to the public showers there and gave George some scrubs to change into afterwards. Overall, George felt very taken care of in a way he hadn't felt in years. He kept asking if the boy had woken up yet, how was he doing, was he going to be okay?

It turned out that the boy needed a blood infusion because he'd lost so much, but that was easily handled. Stitches were administered and then it was just a matter of waiting until he woke up and the doctors could contact his family. Judging by his appearance, they assumed he hadn't been homeless or a run away, but had probably just come out to his family and they hadn't accepted him or had argued with him and he'd left to kill himself. George prayed that the family would come and see what their rejection had done to the poor boy and would reconsider, taking the boy into their arms and making him so happy. George knew that's what he would have done if he'd been given a second chance all those years ago and so he prayed like he hadn't done since.

For some reason, after the shower, George accidentally looked into a mirror. He froze. He hadn't looked into a mirror without going crazy and smashing it to bits in years, over a decade. And yet, that wasn't what he felt like doing now. He didn't hate his reflection anymore. Sure, he needed some work, was altogether too skinny for comfort and really he ought to eat more and spend less money on his drug habit and maybe there was something he could do about that, there were programs to help people quit right? Gething smiled at him in the mirror and for the first time, George smiled back.

When he walked back out to the waiting room, he stopped a female nurse and asked her if there was a program nearby for homeless heroin addicts and she nodded with a sympathetic expression and gave him a card listing the phone number and the address of the place, saying he'd have to work very hard to get in and stay clean, but if that's really what he wanted then he could find accommodation here. George smiled and thanked the woman. He went back to his seat and a few minutes later a young man came bursting through the double hospital doors, looking around frantically. He rushed Stuart and George noticed that the boy was shaking. He was yelling about his little brother and where was he, was he hurt?

Stuart narrowed his eyes and said brother? The young man nodded again, practically shaking Stuart, and visibly tried to calm himself down. He thought for a second than hesitantly said his little brother was probably dressed as a girl, maybe in a dress or a skirt of some sort? Stuart nodded and told him that the boy was unconscious at the moment, but that he could go back and see him. George stood, ready at last to take his leave, now that someone had come. He stopped the young man with a hand on his arm and looked him carefully in the eye.

"Are you Dean?"

The young man looked considerably startled. He nodded, his eyes wide.

"Take care of your brother. Don't reject him because of his wishes and who he is. Even if it goes against everything you've ever known, you must make that sacrifice. For his sake. Please. Don't reject him again. It's not his fault, the way he is and it isn't wrong. Just because something is different, doesn't make it wrong."

Dean just stared at him as George turned and walked out of the hospital. He had to get back to the hill and get some flowers for Paige. He thought perhaps he'd pick the lilacs and bring them back. They were his favorite, after all. George smiled at Gething and together they walked back to the hill.


	26. The Lady Slavery

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

HELLO. ICH BEIN EIN BERLINER. True, I am a doughnut, but what I mean is that I am currently in Germany and will continue to be so for the next 10 days. I am planning to put up chapter 27 like a week from today, however, I may not be able to find internet at that time. If that is the case, know that it is a brief and unintentional hiatus and I deeply apologize.

Dean shook his head, blinking quickly. That man... who the hell was he? How did he know Dean's name? Dean looked at the nurse he'd been talking to.

"Who was that guy?"

The nurse glanced at the door the strange man had just departed through. The nurse gave him a small smile.

"That was George. He's a homeless man who lives around here."

Dean tilted his head, considering what George had said to him. He shook his head again. Another time, another place. He had bigger things to worry about right then. Like Sam. He turned and planted his hands on the desk and put all of his concern and fear for Sammy into his face. The nurse was focused, so apparently it worked.

"Where is my brother?"

The nurse looked away guiltily. Dean's eyes narrowed. _Something was wrong. This was weird. He should have at least been taken back to make sure it's Sam... identification of the person because Sammy was running around in a dress of all things... what the hell had he been thinking? _Dean felt a nauseating wave of his own guilt wash through him and he took a deep breath to steady himself. When Sam had been pleading with him not to leave... he'd never thought Sam would actually do anything like this. Hadn't thought a twelve year old, for God's sake, would try to kill himself. Over him.

_God, how can he not know? He's worth so much, gets good grades, can actually make something of himself in this world. He doesn't have to hunt forever, doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to. How has he gotten so tangled up in me? He's supposed to be the strong, independent one! The one who can do things by himself and doesn't need anyone, much less his sicko brother!_

The nurse was saying something to him and Dean struggled to tune in to what he was saying, it might be something important, something about Sam, _why aren't they fucking letting me see Sammy?_

"Well, he's lost a lot of blood and we had to perform a transfusion, but it is of course, very rare, to see someone his age trying to end their own lives unless something very traumatic has gone on at home."

Dean just stared, trying to work her words through his brain, seeing if there was any information there about why he hadn't been immediately rushed to see his baby brother. He came up empty. The nurse leaned forward, resting his hand on Dean's shoulder in what he was sure was supposed to be a comforting gesture. Dean flinched away and the nurse frowned deeply, his face taking on a pursed appearance.

"Well I guess you can come back and at least sit with him until your parents arrive."

Dean nodded, holding in his own hysterical laughter. As if his father would ever actually come to the hospital. No, Dean reached back to his wallet and gently fingered his I.D. stating that he was 22 years old and the I.D. next to it, the one that said he was 19, and the one with the name that was on their medical insurance. It was also the one that had legal custody of Sammy.

The nurse stopped him before opening the door gently, and he was saying something else to Dean, but Dean was done listening. He could see Sam, tubes connected, chest slowly rising and falling under a flimsy hospital gown and sheet, and how he looked pale, too pale for comfort. He shoved past the nurse who made a weird shrieking noise and Dean was hauling a chair over and planting himself next to Sammy's unconscious body, taking his hand and stroking the tops of his knuckles gently. He felt the nurse approach from behind and wanted to turn around and hiss at him to leave them alone, let him be with his Sammy, but just in time, he managed to restrain himself.

"He could wake up any time now. The sedatives we gave him for the transfusion and the stitches and all of the treatments should be wearing off pretty soon. He'll have some faint scars on his arms, but we are still concerned about a possible infection in the, ah, other wound."

Dean swung his head around to pin the nurse with his gaze, holding a fair amount of rage. The nurse flinched away. Dean spoke very slowly, hating every second that this man was taking away from him being able to watch Sam. _Fuck if I ever let this kid out of my sight again. I am going to be right here, unless he doesn't... if he ever changes his mind... and doesn't want me... well I doubt I can give him up for good, but at least I can be secretive about it, just drop by every so often to check up on him... I have the makings of a stalker. Excellent, Winchester._

"What other wound?"

The nurse evaluated him with a long look before walking around to the other side of the hospital bed. He gently lifted the hospital gown and sheet to reveal Sam's legs. Dean still wasn't seeing anything, other than some grass and flower petals clinging to his legs. The man continued to raise the gown higher and higher and Dean's hackles were raised. He reached out to stop him, trying to grab hold of the gown and cover Sam. _Hadn't he been revealed enough? _The man folded the gown over Sam's stomach and parted his legs. Dean was on his feet, about to yell and scream and shoot this guy in the face for touching Sammy, his Sammy, how dare he-

Then he saw the wound. It was a bruise, fairly recent but still fading. However, he remembered that bruise vividly, remembered sucking it onto the inside of Sammi's thigh, remembered the high he'd felt from marking her up, marking her as **his and his alone. **It had been better than any drug he'd ever had and idly, in the back of his mind, he wondered if he was developing some kind of dominating kink. It probably didn't help that Sammi was a natural submissive and that thought only fueled the lust coursing through his body at the memories.

He tamped down on the inappropriate feelings, because on top of the bruise was a word, a name, carved deeply into the tender flesh. It had stopped bleeding, and the nurse was carefully changing the bandages in order to smear more ointment, something about preventing infection and trying to minimize the scarring, but the name seemed to be dug in almost to the knife hilt and the wave of nausea came back full force.

Before the word was fully revealed, Dean knew what it was. Knew that Sam had probably been murmuring his name, apologizing and pleading as he breathed what he was sure would be his last breath. Dean felt his own lungs hitch as the full weight of everything finally sank onto him. His knees gave out and he reseated himself heavily in the uncomfortable chair. The cold metal burned through his ratty clothes, but he didn't see anything, couldn't notice anything, outside of Sam. His Sam. And wasn't that just the way things always were?

He thought he'd been doing the right thing. He'd thought that it was a phase or something; that the whole thing would go away if he ignored it,, just disappear. He wondered to himself bitterly what it said about him as a person that going out, getting tipsy, leaving his baby brother crying, shrieking, suicidal, on the floor of their rented house, and trying in vain to get in a quickie with the hot, blonde bartender in the bathroom, was his best idea of how to deal with problems. _Problems like having his baby brother in love with him. Problems like loving him back._

He was holding Sam's hand again, running his thumb in careful circles over the cuts on his wrist, mapping out what he knew would be scars Sam would carry for the rest of his life. And every time he looked, when Sam wasn't wearing long sleeves - _and Jesus the kid was such a freak, wearing long sleeves even in the summer and it wasn't like he was actually cold, not judging by the amount of sweat pouring off of him, but to cover his wrists because, well, he'd been cutting for a long time before this ever happened and why hadn't he ever gotten around to talking with Sam about that? Before everything spiraled out of control? Why hadn't he ever just fucking sat down and had a serious conversation with his baby brother? - _he'd be reminded.

He'd be reminded of how many times Sam had tried to talk to him and how many times he'd brushed him off or hadn't listened. How many times he'd made a joke or changed the topic or distracted Sammy by getting him in a headlock instead of facing the issue. How many times he'd muttered **No Chick Flick Moments** because he was too damn scared of his own feelings to deal with anyone else's. How many times he'd been too selfish to think of Sam for one minute. And how many times he'd been thinking of Sam, trying to do the right thing and failing miserably because he didn't know enough, didn't understand the situation clearly, didn't understand Sam because he'd been shutting him down and **not fucking listening. **

How often throughout his life he'd done what he thought was best for Sam and how often it really wasn't that good for Sam at all. How many more times he'd do that throughout their lives. How many times he'd thought of Sam when he shouldn't have, when he was fucking guys who looked about ten years younger than their actual age, when he hired a prostitute who was so obviously his baby brother. But he had been blinded by how good she felt and tasted that he kept assuring himself, over and over, that there was no possible way it could be Sam, even as he was gasping Sammi when he came, over and over again.

He'd be reminded of how he'd failed. And how he would always be doomed to fail. For a brief, crazy moment, Dean considered calling their father, confessing everything to him. Let him send Sam away, maybe to Uncle Bobby's or Pastor Jim's or Caleb's. Let him stay somewhere for more than a month or two at a time. Make friends. Date people his own age, go to the same school semester after semester, go to the college of his choice, fall in love with someone who **wasn't his goddamned brother. **But as soon as he had the thought, he was shaking his head.

Their father wouldn't give up Sam. Jim had confided in Dean, a few years ago, that he and a few others who'd known John while Dean was still in kindergarten, had all offered, at different points, to raise the boys for John. To take them in and let them live there, with John visiting when he could and sending postcards when he couldn't. John refused every time. Dean wondered if John would still refuse.

Dean's imagination turned from Sam with some faceless girl walking around the stereotypical college campus to a dark building where his father was torturing him. He'd probably think Dean was a monster, _Dean agreed, _some shapeshifter or possessed by a demon, maybe something worse. Sam would be told to wait at the hotel or in the car, but he wouldn't. He'd try to rescue Dean, maybe, or kill their father and take Dean and they'd leave, living on their own under the radar and in constant fear of CPS until Dean actually turned 18. A couple of years of living on the road and an entire lifetime stretching before them of doing the same thing. If their father killed Dean, he had no illusions that Sam would be quick to follow him, with their dad or not. No matter how it ended, it wouldn't matter anymore.

Dean couldn't take it. He stood up quickly, glancing around the room. The nurse had left while he'd been deep in thought. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, but the wound had been re-bandaged and the gown and sheet were pulled down, modestly covering Sam once again. Dean leaned over Sam's face and kissed him on each eyelid, not sure if the apologies he was saying were in his head or out loud. He watched as he accidentally dripped a few tears onto Sam's face, but suddenly couldn't bring himself to wipe them away. He felt the bile rising into his throat again and knew he couldn't hold it off any longer. He squeezed Sam's hand once and dashed off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and not even bothering to lock it before sinking to his knees in front of the pristine toilet and dirtying it.

Not a minute after his run, Sam's eyes fluttered open. He took a deep breath and tried to roll over to see what was going on. His vision was bleary and he couldn't quite remember what had happened. His body was exhausted and his arms and inner right thigh really hurt though...

_Dean learning everything, the look on his face, the floor, crying begging pleading, I'll do anything, I love you don't you get it? Dean crying, shoulders shaking, Dean walking out the door, rocking on the dirty floor, writing the letter, smudging the ink of the pen because the tears wouldn't stop flowing, wiping his nose impatiently. Putting on the dress he'd bought with Lexy, it seemed like so long ago that he'd gotten it, leaving all of the money in the pocket of Dean's jacket along with the letter. Putting it on the couch because that was usually where Dean ended up when he was drunk and there was no doubt in his mind that Dean was heading off to get wasted, trying to forget his horrid little brother, the one he'd always done everything for, sacrificed his childhood, his schooling, everything for. Staggering outside and looking around, clutching the knife to his chest, the one Dad had given him a lifetime ago, back when he was still worthy of being his son, being a Winchester, being Dean's brother, but had he ever really been worthy of that honor? Probably not._

_Wandering around, seeing a hill. Well, it was kind of too small to be a hill but he wasn't really in the mind to be choosy. Sitting down in the rose patch, thorns pricking his bare arms and legs and feet. He hadn't worn any shoes. He looked down, his feet were bleeding. He shifted his legs, ignoring the tiny pinpricks. He looked long and hard at the bruise. The mark Dean had given him. He laughed, the sound ringing shrilly in his ears. Dean had given it to Sammi, someone else. Not his brother. Never his innocent baby brother; someone to be protected against everything at any cost. _

_He was carving Dean's name into it before he had a chance to think about it. He sank the knife in as far as he could, severing muscles and flesh. On the _A_he thought he felt the knife nick the bone, but he wasn't sure. He was crying and snotting all over the wound, whispering Dean's name over and over again until he forgot every other word he'd ever learned. None of them would ever have been as important and none of that mattered now._

_He sliced at his arms and wrists viciously. He'd taken time and care with Dean's name, cutting each stroke lovingly into his soft skin. Because it was Dean. Now though, it was just Sam, and when had he stopped feeling pain? When had he started getting dizzy? The flowers were spinning and dancing around him, singing softly. He was still holding the knife, but he leaned forward curiously. _

You can learn a lot of things from the flowers, especially in the month of June.

_Sam had frowned. It wasn't June anymore. It hadn't been for over a month. These flowers obviously weren't keeping up with the times very well._

There's a wealth of happiness and romance in the Golden Afternoon.

_Sam had smiled, shrugging to himself. What did it matter if the flowers knew what month it was? Their voices were hauntingly beautiful, although Sam strongly suspected it was just his own mind playing tricks on him. He wouldn't say it happened often and most likely, the blood loss had something to do with it. Maybe the flowers could give him some good advice about all this, or maybe Sam just needed to hear a beautiful voice, (like his mothers, oh how he wished he could remember his mother's voice sometimes!), maybe all he needed right now, in his time of dying, by his own hand, by the hand of a monster which was always how Dean had figured he'd die someday so maybe Sam was just getting the jumpstart on things and wouldn't that just gall Dean? That finally, in an aspect other than grades - which Sam knew Dean could do better on because he was _**smart **_dammit! - and other than research, which was really just patience and a love of reading and learning for the sake of learning, that Sam would beat Dean at something. Get there first._

_Of course, he'd wait. Sam believed. He wasn't positive on what he believed in, but he believed that angels were watching over his brother and maybe, maybe he could talk to those angels, ask if he could wait for Dean. Stay somewhere and wait until his time. Not that Sam could be an angel, but maybe he could help watch over Dean, keep him safe until it really was his time. And when he died, Sam would make it painless and he'd be there, waiting for Dean. And maybe, the angels, or God, or whoever, would let them be together in the afterlife. Let them hang out and play and run around a never-ending forest and jump in a lake and swim into the distance which they'd never reach and bask by the side of a river in the heat, letting their feet dangle in the refreshingly cool water. Dean would make fun of him and cuff him on the side of the head and Sam would run away and climb a tree and throw pinecones and they'd laugh and laugh and laugh._

Sam was still smiling when the memory was over, imagining all the fun he and Dean could have. Presumably, if they were in Heaven or around angels or something like that, they'd take away all of his wrong feelings for Dean and erase all of that tension and horribleness that was between them. Maybe Dean would forgive him and not be angry that Sam had killed himself. Sam had heard that suicides went to Hell, but by watching over Dean and helping the angels he could redeem himself enough so that he could stay with Dean eventually. Unless Dean didn't want him.

Sam felt tears welling up in his eyes again. In the back of his mind he noticed that there were already tears on his face and instinctively, he knew they were Dean's. He was in a hospital and he wasn't dead. He had a very vague memory of being carried, by someone unfamiliar, to this hospital, and a lot of commotion going on around him, and doctors hovering, clicking, and shaking their heads when they saw Dean's name on his thigh.

He hoped that it would scar, knew there was no way it wouldn't. He tried to kick again in sheer frustration and found that his legs and waist were restrained. Upon closer inspection, his arms were restrained as well, although not as tightly because of his injuries. He couldn't move. The restraints would hardly let him move at all. He knew it was because he'd tried to kill himself, knew that suicides either had to be on watch or restrained if the hospital was too understaffed for 24 hour watch, but somehow none of it seemed to compute.

Dean stumbled out of the bathroom, wiping the water he'd used to rinse his mouth out and wash his face off with the back of his arm. He was just down the hall from Sam's room and was almost there when the nurse from before, a doctor, and a few people who looked like security cornered him. He glared at all of them, not in the mood to have it out with these people.

"Mr. Hammett, I'm Doctor Carstairs and this is Nurse Partridge. We need to speak with you."

Dean continued to look at them steadily, wiping his face of any emotion. He straightened up. The nurse hesitated, but the doctor continued.

"Your brother, when he came in, was pretty badly injured." Dean nodded. "Due to the nature of his leg injury, we performed a rape kit."

The doctor paused, trying to gauge Dean's response. Dean was careful not to give one. The doctor finally gave up and went on.

"We didn't find any semen, but there was some scar tissue in your brother's rectum, indicating participation in sexual activity. Because of his young age, it is automatically considered rape in this state."

Dean continued to stare impassively at the doctor. The doctor sighed in frustration and flipped through the pages on a clipboard he was holding.

"It says here that you two have a father who lives with you, but you are his legal guardian. Can I speak to your father? Is he on his way?"

"He's out of town on business and cannot come."

The doctor lost his temper and exploded.

"Son, this is very serious! Your little brother was raped! Don't you understand what's going on here? He was raped, in all likelihood multiple times, at least judging by the scarring, and was clearly so traumatized by the whole thing that he tried to take his own life!"

Dean understood very well and he was at the end of his rope with this doctor. He saw the guards eyeing his warily and his throat closed up. He coughed once and asked in a low voice, threateningly, "And you think I did this?"

Finally the doctor hesitated. The nurse shifted uncomfortably and one of the guards had his hand lingering near the holster on his belt. Dean was willing to bet he could outdraw the guy, but he didn't want to test the theory. Especially because Sam chose that moment to start screaming.

Sam was remembering. Remembering vividly the incident in the car and the man drugging him, _his soda tasting strange and coming back to their house, covered in blood, most of which couldn't possibly have been his, trying to scrub it off and not managing to, finding way more money and wondering if he'd killed they guy or what had happened. And then in the bathroom, not too long after, with Dean coming in and torturing that guy and Dean _**leaving. **_No, no, no, Dean come back I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, come back Dean, and he did, but his eyes were crazed and he'd wanted to take Sammi home, but then he'd know where she lived, recognize his own damn house, even if they were only renting it temporarily, getting someone else to take him home, remembering being curled up against Dean's chest afterwards with him _**apologizing of all things**.

_And now Dean wasn't here and he needed Dean to be here and why wasn't he here? Why was he alone? There was no one, no one else and what if he'd succeeded? What if all suicides really did go to Hell? Was this Hell? Being alone, restrained and unable to move or call out in a hospital bed? Sam couldn't tell if he was making any noise or not, kept trying to scream, Dean Dean Dean DEAN _**DEAN. **_Please come back, I'm sorry, I'll do anything, I love you, do you still love me at all? I promise you can do anything you want, anything at all. I won't fight, would never fight you. Can't, couldn't, wouldn't, need you Dean. Please. Please. _

The security guards were stupid enough to try and keep Dean away from his brother. He efficiently slammed one into the other, making sure they were both in a tangled heap on the ground before shoving past the doctor. The nurse was the only intelligent one, the one who opened the door to Sam's room and stood aside, letting Dean pass. He sat on the bed, next to Sam and curled his body around him. Sam was wracked with shivers, unable to stop shaking. Dean quickly undid the restraints on his arms and waist and Sam's screams subsided into sobs as he hid his face in Dean's neck, breathing deep and opening his mouth against his skin, lips forming promises and tongue reiterating them, scalding them forever.

The security guards stood up carefully, neither of them badly hurt. Dean would have hurt them worse, but he'd been too bent on just getting them out of his way. One of them had a few sprained fingers and the other had an almost dislocated knee and the doctor was busy getting to the phone in the room, glancing shakily at Dean and Sam every few seconds. When Dean saw what he was doing he growled and the doctor froze, his finger pointed over the 9 button, about to call for the police, or CPS, or help, or Jesus, maybe the fire department to take down this apparently insane, violent kid. Sam tried to intervene.

"Look, please."

He had to cough and clear his throat a couple of times before he could rasp out anymore. _I guess that answers my question about whether I was able to make any noise before or not. _He wanted to smile, but wasn't sure it would help his case.

"Please, let him stay. I won't try and hurt myself anymore."

Dean growled softly and wrapped his arms tighter around Sam. Sam felt a shiver race down his spine at how protective Dean was being. The growling may have contributed too. Sam's cock was really interested in getting Dean to growl like that more. As if sensing that, Dean slithered down and released the remaining restraints holding Sam's legs fast. Sam let out a small sigh of relief at being able to move. His pain receptors had apparently come back online, although, judging by how dull the ache was, he figured he was pretty doped up.

It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on what he was saying and stay awake. He yawned hugely. Dean smiled at him and Sam could have cried at how happy Dean looked. With a supreme effort, he forced himself to return his gaze to the doctors. Dean murmured unhappily and resumed snuggling, twining his legs around Sam as well. The doctor looked a little askance at their closeness. Sam smiled serenely.

"Let him stay. He's never done anything to hurt me and he'll keep me from hurting myself. Please. We just need to sleep and everything will be better. Just a little sleep..."

Sam's eyelashes fluttered and his eyes were rapidly closing. It took him a few seconds to figure out why he suddenly couldn't see, but he didn't have the strength to force his eyes open again. He tried to struggle against the impending sleep, wasn't sure he'd quite made his point, but there wasn't much he could do. He heard Dean talking to the doctors, thought he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room, might have heard the sound of the door closing, wasn't sure. All he knew was that Dean's heartbeat was slow and steady in his ears, Dean's hands making soothing circles on his back, and he drifted off, dreaming for some reason about elephants that always knew the way to the hospital.


	27. Rue Magique

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved!

The doctors departed once it became clear that Sam had fallen asleep. Dean had almost growled at them to leave before they woke Sam up and then had promptly begun ignoring their presence, but the doctor and nurse were far from pleased at the situation and in no way were ready to leave well enough alone. It was early afternoon and there were many other things to be attended to in the hospital so they put the strange brother situation out of their minds for the moment.

Well, most of them did. The doctor was extremely busy, but during a short lull in people coming in, Stuart the nurse decided to take matters into his own hands. Stuart had had two older brothers, one of whom was deceased, and the other of whom Stuart wasn't sure if he was still alive or not. He'd never met his brothers, the oldest one had left home by the time he was born, but he'd been told the story by his neighbors, all of whom blamed his oldest brother for his other's death. Stories and rumors of abuse, physical and sexual in nature, ran rampant.

He was sure his parents had heard the stories, but they were in too much pain to ever address the issue and Stuart didn't want to bring it up. Wasn't sure he could handle the rumors being confirmed. In any case, Stuart was well aware of less than brotherly things occurring between brothers, with or without the younger one's consent, so he called Child Protective Services. Upon arriving, he briefed the woman on what he knew, which wasn't much, and she nodded, walking back. Nina took in the scene of the young boy in the hospital gown sleeping in the arms of his older brother who was curled up awkwardly on the hospital bed.

He'd only kicked off his shoes. Nina raised an eyebrow at the behavior and walked in. The older brother looked around 20 years old and the younger one couldn't have been more than ten. Nina's frown deepened.

"Um, excuse me?"

The elder brother, Dean the nurse had said, opened his eyes immediately and he gestured at her to be quiet. He gazed down fondly at his brother and gently caressed his forehead, sweeping his unruly bangs away from his small face. Nina pursed her lips at the blatant affection on Dean's face. She cleared her throat and he turned a blazing glare on her. Determined not to show the sudden shiver of fear that skittered through her body, she gestured at the doorway, cocking her head at Dean.

He made a sour face and got up, silently padding out the door. Taking a last glance at the younger one, Sam, Nina followed him out. Dean seemed grumpy.

"What is it?"

Nina blinked at his tone. She collected herself quickly and responded quietly.

"My name is Nina Abbot and I work with Child Protective Services. Do you have parents around here, on their way maybe?"

She'd used a gentle and calming tone of voice, hoping to defuse the building tension she could see in Dean's shoulders. Contrary to what she'd hoped, however, mentioning first CPS and then his parents seemed to put him even more on edge.

"No. My father is away on business. He can't come."

Nina's brow furrowed. Perhaps Stuart had been wrong and the father was the cause behind the problems. The boy didn't seem to harbor any ill feelings about his father though; he just kept glancing back into the room at his brother who slept on peacefully.

"Now, your brother, he um. Well, I was informed that he tried to take his own life. You know, that's very unusual behavior for someone his age, especially when he has such a protective older brother. Could you tell me what happened? Maybe I can help."

Emotions flittered quickly across Dean's face, guilt being the predominant one. He coughed and looked at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. _I guess I'll have to tell this lady something. Can't have them poking around too much anyways. Maybe if I give her a little story she'll leave and I can get back to Sammy. God, I hope she doesn't want to talk to him too. Fuck! Why couldn't Dad have just answered his damn phone for once in his life? _

"It's my fault. We, ah. We got into an argument. I took the car and went for a drive, needing to cool off. My temper, well. I can't always hold it in check and I didn't want to take it out on Sam, he really hadn't done anything wrong, and sometimes it's hard to control myself, so I went for a drive. When I got back he was gone. I searched for him and this is the nearest hospital so I came here, thinking maybe he went out without me and something had happened to him."

Nina nodded, understanding and she could tell that large chunks of the story had been left out. He seemed to be telling the truth though.

"It really isn't a good idea to leave someone that young on their own for an extended period of time. Especially with your father not around. I'm sure you realize that. What were you arguing about?"

"Something stupid."

Dean was being evasive. Nina chewed her lip and flipped through the papers on her clipboard. Dean glanced back at the room.

"You said it's hard to control yourself... I see in his files here that Sam has been hospitalized for other injuries in the past... far more than is normal for a boy his age, even an active one..."

Nina trailed off, looking at Dean expectantly. He just stared back, defiance in every feature. Nina sighed and continued.

"Did you cause those injuries?"

Dean blinked at her blankly a few times before his face twisted into a mask of utter hatred. Nina felt frightened; she'd never seen someone look like that. Her hand unconsciously reached for the cross she kept around her neck, wondering if this was what demons truly looked like. Dean snarled at her.

"I love my brother and I take good care of him. I would never hurt him."

Dean turned and walked back into the room. _Fucking lady, always has to twist my words. Here I was trying to be nice and give her enough so she'd leave, but I guess I know better than that huh? _Sam whimpered and started squirming in bed. Dean dashed over and put his hand on Sam's cheek, stroking him softly with his thumb.

"Hey, hey. I'm here. I'm right here. I've got ya Sammy. Don't worry. Everything's gonna be just fine, you'll see."

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean blearily. He whimpered again.

"Hurts."

Dean's eyes widened and he stuck his head out into the hall, yelling for a nurse. A hefty woman dressed in Snoopy sweats came bustling in, checking Sam's vitals with practiced efficiency. When she asked about the pain, Sam just whimpered for a third time and started sweating. She cooed at him and injected something she said would "take the pain away, although things are going to seem a little strange and what you say isn't going to be what you want to say, but don't worry everything is fine, it's just the medicine dear, just the medicine making you seem a little out of it."

Dean frowned worriedly, knowing his little brother always went straight into Dear Diary mode with morphine, if he didn't fall asleep, and hoped he'd just pass out. The infuriating woman still hadn't left. As soon as the nurse left the room, the woman came in and stood at the foot of Sam's bed.

"Sam, may I ask you some questions?"

Dean stared at her incredulously.

"The nurse just gave him something for the pain. You honestly think anything you're saying is going to register? Or that he'll be able to answer with anything even close to resembling sentences right now?"

Sam glared at Dean.

"Always making choices for me. Always decididing what I shouldn't and shouldn't do, gotta let me decide sometimes too Dean cause else how cans I ever learning everything?"

Dean smiled indulgently at his younger brother and stroked his wrist before clambering back up onto the bed with him. Nina frowned hard.

"I'd prefer to speak with him alone."

Dean shook his head.

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer you didn't speak with him at all. In fact, I'd say this little interview is about over. Don't you have other kids in broken homes who are actually being beaten by their daddies to go talk to?"

Sam glanced at Dean curiously.

"Who is this ladady? Waishe think Dad hiz us?"

Dean, who was well versed in Sammy-is-on-drugs-or-still-very-much-asleep-speak nodded, twisting his mouth like he'd tasted something unpleasant. Nina tapped her foot, trying to regain her hold in the conversation. She tried again.

"Dean, I really need to talk to Sam and if you're here you could be coaching him or intimidating him so he won't answer my questions honestly or fully. I really need to understand what is going on here. He tried to hurt himself really badly and threatened to hurt himself more if you weren't allowed to stay with him and frankly, that's abnormal behavior for anyone, much less someone his age."

"'M not a baby!"

Sam complained loudly, pouting because he felt ignored in the conversation. Dean smiled at him tenderly and ran his fingers through his hair. Sam pushed his head into the touch.

"Guessss I cuh bea cat? De's lid kitty. Purr purr purr purr..."

Sam was always able to roll his tongue, something he'd discovered that neither Dean nor their father could do. John had smiled softly and murmured that Mary could do that and Dean had felt jealous, that first time, that Sam got to have something in common with their mother that Dean didn't. He'd gotten over it and when he and Sam had joked around he'd call Sam his Little Kitty. That had been years ago and Dean had thought that Sammy had forgotten all about it. He laughed softly and continued stroking Sam's hair. Nina looked away, somehow feeling she shouldn't be witness to this excruciatingly private moment.

When she looked back Sam was still pushing his head against Dean's palm and Dean was still smiling softly at his brother. Nina scrutinized the boys, searching their looks, especially the older one's, for anything out of the ordinary. Anything inherently wrong. Or at least, in a way that isn't one of an older brother looking out for his younger sibling. Nina caught flashes of things deeper, in both of their looks, eyes only for each other, and a shiver raced down her spine. It was something in those looks, something she herself could never understand, and that scared her. She cleared her throat ostentatiously. Two heads swiveled around to stare at her.

"Please, I'd like to talk to Sam alone and I'd rather not have to call security to remove you Dean. I feel like it wouldn't be good for your brother to see you dragged out of here and I don't want to fight with you. If you would just be so kind as to leave us alone for a few minutes, I'm sure we can clear everything up..."

_I've had just about e-fucking-nough of this bitch._

Dean swung his legs off of the hospital bed and stood, raising himself to his full, not unimpressive, height, squared his shoulders, and loosened his muscles, preparing for a fight.

"Actually, I think we're leaving now."

Nina couldn't stop her mouth from dropping open, ever so slightly. She gaped at Dean. He smirked at her. He strode past her, not giving her a second glance, over to the counter were Sam's dress, undergarments, and shoes were wrapped up in a plastic bag. He quickly unwrapped them and walked back over to his little brother. He laid out the dress and underwear lovingly and began cooing softly to his brother.

"Okay Sammy, okay. I'm gonna take this needle out and it's going to pinch a little and I'm sorry, but hold on, there you go, see? Not so bad after all! Okay and I need to get this monitor off of your thumb and there! That didn't hurt at all. Okay, can you sit up for me? Good job, you're doing really good. Now raise up your arms, but keep the sheet here around your tummy, okay? There we go, okay underwear first..."

_Not exactly sure why they took the underwear off...oh. Blood. Right and the Wound, they had to bandage it up. Okay, well I'll just have to be really careful, already have to be with his arms, God, has he lost even more weight? Jesus Christ._

"Miss, would you turn around for a second? I need to get my brother dressed."

Nina was finally able to shut her mouth. A nurse was peering in confusedly, as Sam's monitor was making helplessly annoyed sounds at losing his heartbeat. She pursed her lips and walked over.

"No, you can't do this! Your brother is badly injured and needs to stay in here! Security! Nurse!"

Much to Nina's dismay, the nurse came in and began talking to Dean in a very rational voice, not sending for security and having this obviously deranged boy removed from his poor little brother's hospital room.

"Sir, I'm afraid you can't do this-"

"If you check the medical records, I am Sam's legal guardian."

The nurse's brow furrowed and she grabbed the clipboard from the foot of Sam's bed, flipping through the pages quickly. Her frown deepened. She made a tsking sound and tried again.

"Well, he is suicidal and he needs constant care."

Dean smiled at her kindly. His tone dripped with sugary reassurance. It sounded patronizing to Nina, but the nurse seemed to eat it up.

"I can definitely make sure of that. You see, our father wants us to come meet us, since he is **ever **so worried about Sam and he simply can't get away from his business. I will be with him at all times, won't leave him alone for a second."

The nurse smiled back at him and proceeded to disconnect and turn off the monitors around Sam's bed. Nina felt a frustration headache beginning in the base of her skull.

"I will not allow this! I am calling the police!"

She stomped out to the desk to grab for the phone. She quickly dialed and was promptly put on hold. She sighed impatiently, looking back to the room. Dean knew he didn't have much time. Not that the bitch really had any reason to arrest him, but she'd make things complicated, involving the police, and Dean didn't want the hospital finding out that he wasn't Sam's legal guardian, he was a minor, and both of their I.D.s were very fake. So he hurried along.

The nurse was actually very helpful, turning away while Dean dressed Sam, and signing the paperwork letting them go. The nurse turned out to actually be a doctor, just one who had just come in for her shift and hadn't had a chance to change into scrubs and everything, so she had the authority to finish the paperwork.

"Now, you take very good care of your little brother, young man!"

The doctor leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to Dean.

"I don't believe that CPS woman for a second. Calling the cops on a poor boy trying to help his baby brother? Stuart tol' me how frantic you were when you got here, to see your brother, make sure that he was still alive. Stuart said it looked like you'd been losin' sleep over the whole thing, so I have to say. Whether you anticipated this sort of thing happening or not, you had better believe that whatever is wrong with your brother, whatever drove the poor dear to do this, isn't going to be resolved. Your daddy, I'm sorry to say and meanin' no disrespect, doesn't seem to be in the know about these things, so it's up to you to take care of him, to figure out what made him do this, and try and fix whatever is the matter. Or at least, try and lesson how it makes him feel."

Dean listened with one ear, more focused on getting Sam and himself together in a timely and efficient manner. By the end of the speech, however, Dean was listening very carefully. He knew this was something that would haunt him for a long time, most likely for the rest of his life.

_Wonder what Sam will do when he's older? He'll get a girlfriend or someone and they'll be getting hot and heavy and they'll see that scar and be like "Who's this Dean guy?" And if he's living at home it'll be "Dean, like your brother?" How the _**fuck **_is he going to explain that? _Dean felt a quick stab of jealousy at the thought of Sam having sex with other people and he wanted to smack himself for it.

_Of course he's going to have sex with other people. So am I. Even if we... well. God, I can't even admit it in my own head. But, even if I did what Sam wants and Jesus, when have I ever been able to say no to the kid? Usually only when it's for his own good and look what good I did this time, trying to walk away from all of it, trying to ignore it and hope that he'd just forget about it and get over it, fuck Winchester, fuckin up all over the place. We'll still have to, so Dad doesn't suspect. He already thinks we're too close, gets that _**Look **_on his face whenever me and Sammy have to share a bed or anything. Whatever. I guess we'll figure it out as we go._

Dean grabbed the wheelchair the nurse had wheeled in and settled Sam into it, murmuring about how they were almost out, almost to the car, and Sam yawned hugely. Dean grinned.

"We'll find a soft rock station in the car. It always puts you right out."

Sam smiled dopily back and his head lolled a little when they wheeled out of the room. Nina tried to come over and stop them, having apparently gotten through to the police. Hospital security was busy, some loony had started screaming and struggling to beat up his tiny wife on the other end of the hospital, so they weren't there. Nina stood in front of the wheelchair and tried to brace herself on the arms of the chair, to wheel Sam back to his room. Dean snarled at her. Her eyes widened.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Our. Way."

Nina took a deep breath and shook her head. Dean briefly considered going for his gun, but Sammy had started crying. Dean reached and began rubbing soothing squares on the back of Sam's neck and he leaned into the touch. He opened his watery eyes and blubbered at Nina.

"Lemme go, lemme go, gotta go, gotta go! Wanna be wif De. Wanna stay wif him. Lemme stay wif him please?"

Nina backed up, unsure what to do. Dean was gazing calmly at her with a look that promised a slow painful death. That he'd done it before and he wasn't afraid of doing it again. Anything for his precious brother. It was a look of someone who was totally and utterly willing to do anything. Sam was still sobbing, shudders wracking his tiny body weakly, pleading with her with his huge puppy dog eyes to just let them go. Let them go and everything would be okay. Nina hesitated.

Even if the police arrived right then, she knew it was a long shot. She'd been banking on the fact that if she could manage to get Sam alone for a few minutes, he'd break down and confess how horribly Dean had been abusing him for years. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Dean took advantage of her hesitation and wheeled around her quickly, exiting before she had a chance to reach out again and stop them. She stood stock still for a moment before running out to the parking lot. She saw a flash of Sam's dress as he was lovingly loaded into a classic black muscle car. Dean circled around, slipping into the driver's side and taking off. She could hear the engine turning over as the old car started and it was deafening. The car spun off, turning left and passing by the police car, just as it loudly pulled in, an officer named Morales, who Nina was half sure had a crush on her, hurried out of the car to ask if she was okay, what was going on?

Sam was pretty high. Once the car had safely roared out of the parking lot, he'd just grinned at Dean and begun singing along with Purple Haze, mentioning at the beginning how Lexy had really liked the song. Dean made a mental note to find out from Sam, when he could think clearly, where Lexy lived. He wanted to leave her a note, felt that he really owed her for taking care of his brother while he'd been walking around with his head up his ass all summer. Just wanted to try and tell her how he really owed her one, in case anything ever happened and she needed a hunter's expertise.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"D'ya think if I gae you head you'd crash th'impala?"

Dean cursed, nearly swerving off of the road. Hearing Sam slur it like that, totally high on morphine for injuries he'd acquired trying to kill himself because Dean had refused to take their relationship to a sexual level, just hearing Sam say it like that, like it was something he'd been wondering about for a long time, made Dean blindingly hard. He blinked, hands shaking ever so slightly, as he regained control of the wheel. Sam just smiled cheekily.

"Guessss I got m'ansa huh?"

Dean didn't bother dignifying that with a response. He drove on, thinking about everything he and Sam were going to need to sit down and talk about. The heat rose in waves in front of him, making the mirage oasis seem constantly out of reach and Dean smiled ruefully to himself. The rest of their lives stretched out before him and he idly wondered how often he and Sam would be separated, how long each time would be, and how he'd always wonder if each time would be the last time he'd see his brother. He didn't have to wonder if each time would feel like heartbreak all over again, how he'd manage to go on, and how often he'd think about Sam, try to get back to him in little ways.

"Nina? Nina?"

A breeze picked up and she watched as the oily black color of the antique car faded into the distance. Her hair whipped around her face and she couldn't hear the rising concern in Morale's voice as she gazed into the heat rising off of the asphalt, imagining she could see them speeding off into forever, long after they'd faded from view.


	28. Some Like It Hot

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Beta'd by the ever wonderful Miss Tam! Comments and reviews are loved!

Sam dozed off and Dean decided they could hole up in their temporary home for a few hours. Although she'd called the police, he wasn't sure whether their father had listed their current address on the medical insurance, didn't think his father had updated it for a year at least. It probably wasn't a good idea for them to stay there for too much longer at any rate. Dean tried their father's number, but it just rang and rang. He eventually put the phone down, sighing as he did so. They'd stay there the night and in the morning, they'd leave. He'd try his father again before they left obviously.

Dean was willing to bet that their father hadn't finished the job he was working on, so either way, they'd head for Pastor Jim or Bobby's maybe. Bobby was farther, but Dean knew Pastor Jim was always taking in orphaned kids and sometimes there just wasn't room for the Winchester boys. He bit his lip in thought. _Dad will know. God, he'd just better answer tomorrow. We really need to leave, just in case. I guess if push comes to shove we can stay in a hotel or something. If they don't look at my I.D. too carefully. We do have all that money that Sam tried to leave me. Maybe we could even stay somewhere halfway decent. If we leave the state, at least, maybe head for Reno. Fuck, we could visit the Grand Canyon maybe. Always wanted to go there._

Dean smiled at the thought and shook his head at himself. He dozed himself on the couch with the T.V. on, keeping himself wrapped bodily around Sam. As soon as the kid was coherent, they were going to have a **very serious **talk about hurting/trying to kill yourself and how that is never, **ever **the answer, no matter what was going on in life. Dean wasn't an admitted optimist, but he fervently believed that no matter how bad things got, if you just managed to stick it out a little longer, something would eventually turn up to make you happy you had. He just needed to convey that feeling to Sammy now.

As if he knew how Dean was feeling, Sam rolled over and blinked up at Dean blearily. He'd been face down on Dean's lap and was now gazing up at him with sleep-crusted doe eyes. Dean smiled down at him and felt his heart clench almost painfully with how much he loved the damn kid.

"De?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Not g'na leave?"

The drugs seemed to be wearing off a little bit; Dean could, for the most part, understand what Sam was saying and sentences seemed to be weaning their way back into his language. As for the content of what he was saying, well, clearly, Sammy still didn't know what was going on. Dean just smiled sadly down at him.

"No, Sam. Not going anywhere. Staying right here."

Sam smiled widely at him and Dean wanted to implode. Sam was quiet for a few minutes before speaking again. He was trying to collect himself so that his words wouldn't be slurred or confused or anything.

"When you were leaving, I promised that I would do anything. That I would be whatever you wanted to keep you."

Dean felt more guilt crash over him, if that was even possible at that point. His hands clenched unconsciously tighter around Sam and Sam just snuggled closer. Dean prayed that Sam was done talking, but he knew better than to expect it.

"I wanna be your slave Dean."

If Dean had been drinking something he would have spit it out. As it was, restraining himself from shoving Sam off of his lap, going to take a really cold shower, and coming in his pants, well, it was a close thing.

"What?"

"I like to be dominated, you know? I thought maybe, I could have a collar too, 'cept I'd have to keep it hidden or something cause I guess it isn't really something that we could tell anyone, but-"

Dean cut him off, heart pounding and cock throbbing. His voice was hoarse.

"Sammy, um, well, it's just that, ah..."

Actually, Dean had no way to explain to Sam that this was a terrible idea because his body was so in favor of it. He sat there for a few seconds, grasping for words to communicate what he knew what right and how **this wasn't right, not in the slightest, **but he couldn't seem to formulate words. Sam nodded with a sense of finality, like the topic had been brought up in a business meeting and was now fully discussed and closed. Dean gaped at him like a fish, feeling like he missed something. Sam plowed right through any other objections he might have been thinking with his next words.

"I know you like girls, you always have. And what I was trying to explain before was that, what I'm asking for here, it doesn't have to mean anything. Like, sure, okay, I don't really want to hear about it, or like see it-"

Dean was staring incredulously at Sam. Sam misinterpreted the look for flat out disagreement. He stuttered, backpedaling quickly.

"I m-m-mean, unless that's like a k-kink of yours, or something, or you want me to see, or if-f-f it's like punishment or something, I mean I want whatever you want."

Dean still didn't respond, trying to process what his brother seemed to be implying. Sam paled considerably.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, I mean I just wanted you to know. That I'm not that important, not more important than all the girls you want. Boys too, if you want. It's okay. Anything is okay. Really. You can make me watch, force me, anything."

Now Dean was confused. He was going over the words for a second time, trying to find meaning in the increasingly frantic and desperately paced words, laced with self-loathing. Sam just sped up.

"Anything, I promised, I don't break my promises, I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry. Anything, really. I can, ya know, with them, if you wanted, like, I've heard you talk about a three way before, I don't know if it would really be the same thing, but I can tie myself up, like so I can be a girl too, I can be a girl for you whenever you want, or, I mean, if you wanted, I could be a girl for someone else too, if you, I don't know-"

Dean finally held up a hand to halt the flood of words tumbling from Sam's mouth. Sam immediately ceased sound with a tiny squeak and held his breath, flinching and with apologies written in his eyes every time he so much as twitched. Dean hated himself more in that moment than he ever had and probably ever would. He tried for gentle.

"Sam, you've got to listen carefully to me okay?"

Sam nodded feverishly. Dean sort of wanted to throw up. He took a deep breath.

"Okay, I'm going to address this in order, and what I think I understand of what you just said okay? And bear with me, it's going to take some time to get everything straightened out."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean shook his head tiredly. Sam's mouth made an audible click as it snapped shut and his eyes widened, trying to say he was sorry while not talking like Dean had asked him. _Dean fucking just told you to be quiet and you're already opening your mouth like the fucking idiot you are and Dean's paying attention to everything you say. God, he's really the best, he deserves so much better than anything I could ever give him. But maybe, when he gets married some day, his wife won't mind if he fucks me once in a while. I wouldn't live with them, oh no, nothing like that, but if they trusted me, well if she could put up with me. God knows why she would, maybe I could help babysit or something, no, I'd probably hurt their kids, bad idea Sam._

Dean saw a lot of emotions run through Sam's face and sort of wondered if he even wanted to know what he was thinking about. Shame coursed through him when he realized he didn't. He took another steadying breath and began.

"Okay, so. Yes, I like girls. I got that. I also like boys. Fine, I swing both ways. I don't discriminate when someone is pretty. But what you were mentioning there, no way. I don't do the whole cheating on people thing. I either don't have a relationship and just, you know, with certain people when I want to or when it's convenient, but if I have some kind of relationship with someone, I'm not the kind of guy who'd do that to someone."

The look Dean gave him was supposed to convey that no decent guy would ever do that, but all Sam saw was a rebuke for thinking so low of Dean's character. He made a small noise in the back of his throat and tried to slide to the ground, wanted to grovel on the floor, _never thought of Dean like that, never ever would cheat on some innocent, some nice person. _Dean was alarmed at the sudden behavior, so when Sam started babbling, he didn't stop him.

"Never never, didn't think, just that you'd be good, be so so good, to someone you cared about, someone who deserved good, someone kind and beautiful and wonderful and you'd treat them so well, I know it. But I'm not, I mean, I've done things, oh God, Dean, I've **done things. **It's different, you don't have to cause it's just different."

Dean wrapped a wriggling Sam back into his arms and just sort of rocked him for a little while, wondering how everything went so wrong so quickly? _Maybe it wasn't so quickly. Maybe this has been going on for a long time; many times, in many cities. _

"Bangkok. Sam is that just here, or have you done things like that in other places?"

Dean couldn't help the low growl in his voice and Sam shivered violently.

"Just here. Nowhere else."

Dean nodded and relaxed, pulling Sam closer. Sam cocked his head to the side and nuzzled into Dean's neck. He felt the full body shudder it got him and wondered if there was a better way to de-stress his brother.

He maneuvered himself so he was directly straddling Dean and pressed incredibly close. Dean didn't seem to notice the slight movements until Sam started rocking back and forth, ever so slightly. Dean grew hard under his thigh and his eyelashes fluttered before he cottoned on to what Sam was doing. He tried to shove Sam off, but Sam was like a limpet, clinging and darting his tongue out to stroke the side of Dean's neck. One hand's long fingers burrowed into Dean's shirt front and grabbed a firm hold while the other fingered at his opposite hip, exposed from leaning slightly forward on the couch. Dean continued to struggle, but Sam held on with a strength Dean hadn't quite expected, especially with the relaxant drugs.

"Sammy, you gotta stop."

Sam wouldn't answer, just hummed and pushed closer, rocking with renewed intensity. Dean wondered how Sam could be so attentive to every little thing seconds earlier and now that Dean was panicking and trying to stop this, Sam seemed lost in his own little world?

"No Sam."

"No, we can't."

"You're really not in your right mind here. You don't know what you're doing for Christ's sake!"

Suddenly, Dean stopped struggling and moving entirely. Sam seemed thrown off balance. He writhed along Dean's body, mouthed over his face. Dean held himself completely still, taking every ounce of his self-control. Sam finally pulled away, looking a combination of hurt and confused, completely desperate. Dean grabbed Sam's face and held it.

"Pay attention Sam!"

Sam flinched at the yell. Dean waited until his eyes were open again, never releasing his face. Sam's body eventually went slack on Dean's lap.

"Let's sleep, okay?"

Sam's brow furrowed.

"We'll get some sleep and see how you feel then, okay? The drugs you're on right now, they're making it hard for you to think and function and everything and really, you should be sleeping right now anyways because you're still hurt and I'm sure you're hurting your leg, squirming around the way you are right now, so please. Please Sammy. Can we go to sleep?"

Sam nodded reluctantly, after a moment, and they curled up in unison on the couch. Dean fished a blanket from behind the couch that had fallen onto the floor beforehand, and carefully covered both of them up. Sam watched him suspiciously, clearly afraid Dean was going to make a run for it, but Dean just ignored it and the pang he felt, and sidled himself in snugly behind Sam, making sure they were both wrapped up well.

Dean hadn't expected to sleep, but they both passed out for about six hours. The nurses had been wary of giving Sam very much morphine because he was so young and so incredibly small. Honestly, Sam had built up more of a tolerance than anyone would have anticipated because John was a huge fan of morphine for his boys when there was a serious injury and, understandably, those happened more often for the Winchesters than most children. Dean, knowing all of this, should have been more prepared.

Sam woke up first. The previous day returned to him in sleepy bits and scattered pieces, but he remembered the important things. Namely, that he needed to do something right-the-fuck-now to convince Dean that he could be just as sexually pleasing as those strangers Dean picked up in every new town. He slid down Dean's body, pleased when he noticed that Dean was already half hard. Sensibly, he knew it was sleep, but Sam told himself that it was because Dean was sleeping with _me._

Sam scrunched the dress up and slipped off the underwear carefully, trying not to wake Dean before he wanted to. He chucked them off of the bed and basically latched his mouth on to the front of Dean's crotch. Dean had taken off his belt before sleeping, and Sam undid the button with his teeth, cautiously sliding down the zipper, inch by inch. By the time Dean finally started to come around, Sam had his face wedged into the opening of the jeans, licking and drooling at Dean, who was more than fully hard by that time, and quickly soaking through the thin cotton.

"Oh..."

Dean was thrusting, reaching down and running his fingers through the soft hair on the head of whomever was down there. He was a gentleman and was only thrusting slightly, more rocking than anything, but then he felt himself pulled out gently and opened his eyes, wanting to get more of his bearings, wondering idly if he'd _accidentally slept over at someone's house last night? _Sam took that moment to gaze up at Dean with wide eyes as he held Dean, throbbing, and licked around the head, digging his tongue momentarily into the slit. Dean groaned, the hand grabbing Sam's head became tighter, trying to wrench him off. Sam just leaned forward, taking most of Dean into his mouth and Dean's body betrayed him.

He'd never stopped rocking, he noticed muzzily, and he couldn't bring himself to stop now that Sam was doing that - _what the fuck is he even doing right now? - _that thing with his tongue and, _oh fuck that feels so good, and hold on, what's he doing now? His fingers?_

Sam was being very sloppy on purpose, continuing to drool all over himself. He'd begun taking his fingers and rubbing them around his lips. He couldn't quite fit them into his mouth, any more than the slightest tip anyways, but he was collecting a lot of spit on them. Dean watched, completely enraptured, as Sam then reached his hand behind him. Sam was belly down on his legs and his dress was already a little rucked up. Dean could see the beginnings of the globes of his ass, like a girl in a really short skirt, and he didn't want to know why that thought had him thrusting up even more.

Dean's mouth went dry as Sam's fingers slid along the crease, gently pulling the dress up a little more until his entire ass was exposed. Dean's other hand slid down until he could cup it, squeezing a little, and Sam rewarded him with an extra hard suckle around the head. Dean moaned, brain officially shutting off. Sam brought the slicked up fingers to tangle with Dean's for a second, leading him down a little lower and letting him feel, eyes widening even more, as Sam slipped a finger inside of himself.

Sam froze, waiting for horrid memories and intense pain, but apparently if it was his own fingers intruding, he didn't seem to have as much of a problem with it. _Well of course not, dumbass. They're your fingers! _He wiggled the one around, trying to slick up himself as much as he could. Upon withdrawing, he went back to soaking his fingers again, figuring that more wetness was always better than less, and the second time, was able to fit two fingers inside of himself. The burn started then, weird and even the slight pain had him making little sounds at the back of his throat. He continued to stretch himself though, knowing he couldn't stop now.

Dean felt the small sounds and it took him a few seconds to figure out why Sam was making them. He rubbed gently over Sam's back, soothing over soft skin down over his ass and continuing down his thighs until Dean couldn't physically reach any farther, and then back up again. It seemed to help. Sam felt himself relax further against Dean's thighs, rubbing unconsciously against the bed. Dean groaned at the sight before him. He groaned again as Sam pulled out of himself and pulled off of Dean at the same moment, sliding up his body to mouth at his exposed neck and then kissing him.

Dean was beyond resisting at that point and kissed Sam back, deepening the kiss and licking inside of Sam's mouth, tasting himself on Sam's tongue. He carefully flipped them over, slipping between Sam's legs and feeling Sam wrap them around his middle, pushing up against him. Dean felt the precome smear across the strip of his stomach from where his shirt was riding up and he bore down against Sam beneath him.

Dean felt himself becoming more and more desperate. He pulled back for a second and when Sam mouthed at the air and sat up, trying to follow him, Dean let out a low growl. Sam shivered violently and fell back against the bed, a small gasp coming out involuntarily. Dean yanked the dress off of Sam and Sam winced, hoping like hell the dress hadn't ripped, but when Dean descended upon his collarbone and sensitive neck area, he couldn't bring himself to care much. He was panting, writhing beneath Dean, and he opened his mouth, begging as best he could.

"Oh God, Dean, Dean, please, please..."

Dean lifted his mouth briefly from where he was working on an intense hickey on Sam's neck. He smirked down at Sam. _It'll be right there, in everyone's face, let everyone know he's owned, 's got someone taking care of him, 's got someone in charge of him, MINE. _Sam was rubbing himself around, tossing his head back and forth.

"Whaddya need Sammy?"

"You."

Dean leaned down, close to Sam's ear, licking around the shell of it, and was rewarded with a quiet whimper.

"Already got me Sammy."

Sam moaned and humped up into Dean, feeling the beginnings of chafing from rubbing so vigorously against denim and still being unable to care. Dean whipped off his shirt and went back to his work on Sam's neck.

"Need...oh. Oh. Need you, please, in me, ah, ah, ah, in me, God, Dean!"

Sam's pleading words had taken a little bit to register, to get through his lust addled brain, and when they had, Dean swore and bit down, a little harder than he might have meant to, on the already purpling mark.

"Please, want it to be you, want to think of you, don't want to think about them anymore. Need you, please, oh God, Dean, please, do anything, I promise, I'll do anything..."

With some difficulty, Dean forced himself to meet Sam's eyes. There were hot tears streaming down his face and he was shaking. All arguments and reasons why this would be a tremendously bad idea immediately flew from his head. He curled himself tighter around Sam and whispered soothing noises into his skin as he kissed each and every tear away.

"Okay Sammy, okay. Everything is going to be fine. No tears, Sammy, no tears. I'm right here, not going anywhere, not leaving, okay?"

Sam gulped and nodded, blinking rapidly. Dean took a moment to mouth at the droplets still clinging to his eyelashes before kissing him passionately, tenderly sucking on his tongue, and stroking both hands over Sam's sides, fingers rubbing over every rib, smoothing circles over his nipples, making Sam arch up into Dean and cry out softly, Dean swallowing every delicious noise he could elicit. He murmured into Sam's lips.

"Gotcha Sammy, I've got ya. God so beautiful, beg me so prettily, looking at me like that, Jesus Christ."

Ever so slowly, Dean turned his little brother's pliant body over, continuing to smooth his hands down his sides and pressing his lips to every new inch exposed. He kept up a steady stream of murmurings, reassuring Sammy over and over again. Sam appreciated the noises more than he could understand consciously. Dean kissed down his spine, wet, messy open-mouthed kisses where Sam could feel the trail of saliva stretching down his skin. Dean laid similar kisses on each mound of Sam's ass and whispered, almost too quietly for Sam to hear.

"I'll make it so good Sammy. Make sure, even later, it'll be a good memory."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, thank him maybe, ask him why there was ever a doubt in Dean's mind that this wouldn't be a good memory, wonder if maybe Dean thought he'd regret this later in life, but all that came out was a choked moan. Something hot and wet was **right there **mouthing over his entrance and _oh God, Dean, oh, oh. _He felt his brother's tongue, thick and dripping with saliva, kissing and lapping, pulling at the edges, and _was Dean drooling over him?_

"God Sammy, you taste so fucking good."

He began thrusting his tongue into Sam and Sam felt wetness dripping out of his hole, matching the droplets leaking from his tip, all over the bedspread. Dean grabbed Sam's hand and dragged it back, licking all over Sam's fingers and using them to stretch Sam even wider, along with his tongue. Sam was moaning and humping down, flipping his head and mushing his face into the pillows in failed attempts to muffle the wanton sounds coming out of his mouth. He could feel Dean smiling against him and he suddenly stiffened, coming everywhere.

Dean had pulled back, ready for a break down or rejection, had steeled himself for whichever would be the case, and then gazed in unabashed wonder as his baby brother lost it all over the bed, completely untouched. Dean had to grab himself to keep from following over the edge at the sight Sam made, just as suddenly relaxed and loose-limbed. Sam reached a little farther and grabbed Dean's hand and wiped both of their fingers in his come, using it to further lube himself.

He then pushed carefully onto his elbows and knees, keeping his head bent and breathing hard, still coming down a little bit. He pulled Dean forward until he could reach him completely, jutting out rock hard and proud, weeping at the tip, and Sam swallowed as he stroked a few times, spreading his own come all over. Dean had to shut his eyes at the sight and _Jesus Christ, don't even think about it, fuck, Sam's come slicking me up, getting me all ready to fuck him, God, fuck him right through the mattress, no, wait, hold on, deep breaths, c'mon, gotta be careful, gotta be gentle, gentle, slow._

Sam guided him to the puckered entrance when it seemed like Dean wasn't moving. For a brief second, Sam didn't move, afraid this was Dean pausing to get his attention for the second time. _Want him, so bad, so so bad, in me, please, Dean, please, but Jesus, please just-_

"Sammy."

Dean breathed out the name like a prayer and pushed forward, just a tiny bit. Two more slight pushes and Sam knew he couldn't do it. He was gritting his teeth so hard that he was positive all the enamel would be worn away; clenching his fists to leave nearly bleeding half moon crescents on his palms. It took Dean 0.5 seconds longer than it should have to realize something was wrong. Sam was shaking like a leaf.

Dean pulled out, cursing a blue streak and flipped Sam over roughly, grabbing at his face, desperate not to see tears there, to see revulsion and hatred. He saw instead a little confusion and a lot of fear. Dean's eyebrows pulled together and he opened his mouth to ask, _what did I do? what can I do? Let me make it better, please, I promised this would be good, don't be scared Sammy, I'd never hurt you, oh God, did I hurt you?, _but Sam spoke first.

"Need it like this."

Dean blinked once, twice. Sam pulled Dean down and wriggled a hand between them to grasp where Dean was still achingly hard and bring it back. Dean tried to rear back, tried to get up because if Sam was having a problem and _what if he's just doing this for me and doesn't really want this himself and I already just hurt him like two seconds ago and I can't do this, ah ah-_

Sam was guiding him in and Dean was helpless to resist. Sam's head was thrown back, eyes slammed shut and was puffing out short breaths. Dean kissed his throat repeatedly.

"Sammy. Sammy. Eyes on me. C'mon. Eyes open Sammy."

Sam couldn't help but obey and somehow, as long as he could see who was on top of him, taking him, possessing him, owning him, it was okay. As long as he could see Dean. Dean who kept cooing and gentling his hands over Sam. Dean who rubbed his nipples, "So sensitive Sammy, God, love it, love you like this," until Sam was arching back and crying out. Dean who rocked into Sam, grazing his prostate occasionally, and held their hands together over Sam's head, palm to palm, fingers interlaced. Dean who went slowly for as long as he possibly could and who made sure that Sam felt no pain.

He'd never loved his brother so much in his life.

Sam watched as Dean finally lost that careful control and began shoving and grinding his hips in wild abandon. Sam could feel that Dean was close, could feel the full body shudders, felt the quaking through himself, and reached down to bring himself off too. Dean batted his hand away and glared at him for a moment before rejoining their hands and tugging on them slightly, extending Sam's arms to their limit behind his head. His breath caught in his throat as an animalistic gleam shown brightly in Dean's eyes and Sam saw flashes of what could be and some images of what might happen someday. When he could handle it of course. There was never any doubt that the Take Care of Sammy instinct overrode the needs and fetishes of Dean's dick any day.

Sam shifted on the bed slightly and Dean dragged one of his hands down Sam's lithe body, holding his hips canted up and with fingers digging marks. The thought that they'd bruise, that Sam would wear Dean's marks, for days even, had Sam coming so fast he was gasping and dizzy with the pleasure. Dean followed him not too long after, kissing him through the aftershocks and then pounding in, harder than he'd dared previously, with Sam all loose and happy, until he was falling over the edge too. Sam felt the liquid inside of him, marking his insides to match his outsides and he curled up tightly into Dean's embrace.

Dean pulled out and turned them on their sides, facing each other, and tucked the disarranged pillows around them, not bothering to pull up the covers. It was gross and sticky and sometime in the near future they'd have to get up and shower, but Sam had been fantasizing for a while about shower sex and Dean had never been one to deny his little brother anything before, so why start then? It did seem a little hazardous though; maybe they ought to put down a towel or look for a bath mat or something because who wants to have to explain getting a concussion from incestuous showering?

But, they didn't have to get up just yet.


	29. Love's Awakening

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Italics are memories and thoughts. Also I've kind of modeled where they are after my home town in California, but not exactly. I've also attempted to set it in 1995, as Sam is 12, Dean is 16, so apologies if I've mucked it up. Comments and reviews are loved! Sponsored by (re)viewers like you.

They really shouldn't have stayed the night. It would have been a lot smarter to move on, try a different motel, maybe just sleep in the car somewhere until their Dad finally picked up his goddamned phone, but Sam had been sleeping off the medication and Dean had needed to change his bandages, as well as administering more painkillers, and well, they really hadn't been able to keep their hands off of each other. Dean flushed as he loaded everything quietly into the Impala, unwilling to wake his brother until absolutely necessary.

_Bet Sammy will be pretty hungry when he wakes up. Come to think of it, I'm starved._ Dean bit his lip and surveyed the room for a moment, quickly assuring himself that they wouldn't be leaving behind anything identifying, incriminating, or otherwise crucial. He nodded to himself and checked on Sam who continued to sleep, oblivious to Dean's movements. He smiled fondly and smoothed the errant bangs from his sleeping face. _I'll get some coffee and maybe some doughnuts or something for us to munch on in the car._ He grinned and shut the door behind himself very carefully. Sam yawned hugely and turned over, scratching at his chest.

The line for donuts was just long enough to make Dean impatiently huff and sigh, and just short enough to keep him staying in the Dunkin Donuts and not leave to try somewhere else. Also the smell was quite enticing. He tried his father again, as long as he was idle. Unsurprisingly, John Winchester did not answer. Dean was cautious not to let his frustration slip too heavily into his words.

"Hey Dad, me again. So, uh, well, there was a thing and Social Services ended up sticking their fat noses where they don't belong, and basically Sammy and I are skipping town. I'm not sure how far we'll go, the Impala needs more gas and stuff, but I'll call you with the coordinates once we've gotten resettled. I'm just picking up some grub so we'll be leaving soon."

Dean was never really clear on how to end a message left for someone, wasn't sure if 'bye' was really necessary when he wasn't even speaking to a human being. Not like Dad ever said bye even when he was on the phone anyways. Dean figured it was better, less awkward, way more manly, to just hang up the phone when he was done instead of stuttering inanely to a machine. Balancing the bag of doughnuts and coffees, he fumbled with the car keys until he could get everything settled inside.

He'd wanted to somehow communicate with Lexy, thank her for taking care of Sammy while his head was stuck up his ass. He'd ended up just writing her a note, short and to the point like Dean himself, but remembered too late that he had no idea where she lived. He knew she worked at the mall though, so he headed over there. He'd felt completely foolish walking in, recalling the name of the store was Hot Topic, and he couldn't decide whether he was more relieved that Lexy wasn't currently working or not. He wasn't entirely sure he could trust the people working there, but he figured there wasn't really another option on the table, so he gave them the folded paper. They looked at him strangely and he shrugged, not wanting to seem overly self-conscious, and left a minute or two later.

Sam was warm and comfortable. He lay still for a few minutes, trying to reclaim the peace from his strangely pleasant dream the night before. _Probably had something to do with the fact that I was with Dean. Whenever we sleep in the same bed, it's so much better._ He considered, still unwilling to open his eyes. _Well, and I was also pretty worn out._ A smirk rivaling his brothers spread slowly across Sam's face until he was blinking in the sunlight that came shining in from the window and rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his face. He rolled over to say something to the aforementioned brother, except…

Except he was alone in bed.

Sam paused for a minute, listening in vain for the shower, _we just showered though and Dean's never been that much into personal hygiene, or the toilet, not like it would take him this long though, or the sink, grasping at straws Sam, or anything that would have rolled him out of bed. _Sam's stomach sank as he heard nothing to dispute what he'd known all along. He was alone. Taking a series of deep breaths, counting his inhales and exhales, Sam attempted to hold himself together. As he levered himself from the bed, his arms throbbed and he smiled ruefully, thinking it wouldn't take so long this time, maybe, and hoping against hope he didn't have to beg for Death again. His breath hitched at the thought and he shoved the feelings down quickly.

His emotions really were out of whack anyway, what with puberty and hormones and whatever the fuck else his body was doing to sabotage him on a fairly regular basis, but he wasn't sure he could deal too many more times with trying to kill himself. Sam shuddered and continued pacing, not even wanting to begin dealing with that statement.

He searched the room thoroughly for any kind of note or sign Dean might have left behind. Anything to suggest he was coming back. To say he wasn't gone for good and _Sam, gotta stop thinking like that, won't be of any use to anyone if you're in the corner bawling and rocking yourself like a loony. _Sam looked longingly at the corner, suddenly wanting to just huddle there until Dean came back from wherever the hell he was. He clutched his hands to his chest and forced his feet to keep walking, keep retracing the same paces across the room, if only to stop himself from sinking into that dark place that beckoned so sweetly.

He even checked the bathroom for a note, but upon finding none, felt suddenly frustrated and went to at least get some pants out of his bag. That's when he noticed that his stuff had disappeared. Sam stared owlishly at the place on the floor where he was sure his duffel had been. _Why would Dean take my stuff? Wait, his stuff is gone too. May as well put the dress and panties back on at any rate. Better than being stark naked if anyone besides Dean comes busting in here and, what if Dean doesn't want me like that anymore? What if once was enough?_ Sam glanced out the window again. One of the first things his mind had processed as he had woken up was that the Impala was missing from her parking space right in front of the room's window.

Dean had picked up the habit from their father, always making sure to park the car somewhere she could be seen from inside whatever building, be it bar, diner, or motel. Sam vaguely remembered being very young and sort of wondering if the Impala was some kind of angel sent to watch over their family, back when he was still admitting just how cool he thought she was. Sam shook himself from his reverie and smacked his lips, frowning. They tasted like metal.

Upon inspection, it appeared that, while lost in thought, he'd bitten clean through his lower one. He ran his tongue over it and winced. He hadn't split his lip in a while, it usually happened to Dean more than him anyways, and he always forgot how much mouths bled. They'd basically used up all of the clean towels and washcloths the night before and the tissue box was conveniently empty, so there was nothing for Sam to use to stem the flow of blood. He held his face in an awkward fashion over the sink so at least he'd only be getting blood everywhere in a place that was easy to clean.

_Bet Dean's regretting what happened last night. Woke up this morning, all tangled up in me, and probably felt disgusted. His little brother, his baby brother, the one he's raised and mostly dedicated his life to protecting, wants him in the worst way possible. Oh God. What have I done?_

Goddammit, what the hell is going on here? Dean honked and swerved slightly, trying to get a peek around the car in front of him. Some towering truck of a thing, normally not something he cared one way or another about, but right then it was inconveniently blocking his view. He heard sirens though and could see the flashing lights from at least one police car and a couple of ambulances. He sighed and leaned back, resting his arm against the window. He'd try and turn off of the main street as soon as he could. One of the only nice things about the town was that there were tons of ways to get to the same place. Normally, it just irritated him, but today he might be able to avoid some of this traffic. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth in thought and eased his baby between 2 other cars, wincing when he came close to possibly scraping against another one.

Sam continued to cup his hand under his lip and hastily remembered the existence of phones. He fervently prayed that Dean had remembered his cell phone, and that it was on, but the last time he'd seen it, Dean had slipped it into his jacket pocket and the jacket was currently missing, so Sam had hope. Metal flooded his mouth and he realized he'd been chewing on his lip again. He dialed quickly, having forced himself to memorize all three of their numbers as soon as the phones had been purchased. His fingers were shaking as he punched the phone's number keys and Sam unconsciously held his breath.

It rang.

Dean heard his phone ringing and tried to fumble for it. _I hear it, fuck! It's in here somewhere! Jesus, it's probably Dad, finally returning my phone calls. It'd serve him right to get my answering machine though. Oh, wait, did I ever figure out how to even set that up? Sammy probably did something for me at some point, little brat always knows how to operate this shit better than me. Ha! Bet Dad's really worried now that I'm not even answering huh?_ Dean sneered a little and then he had to pay attention to the road again for a second as he took a curve a little too sharply.

It rang.

Sam felt dizzy and finally reminded himself forcefully to continue breathing. His hand dropped and he gnawed away at his lips with wild abandon, not caring where the blood dripped. Perversely, he wanted to make a mess, wanted to make quite a sight for whoever found him, _Dean_, whenever they found him, _Dean come back_, maybe sometime soon, _God, oh, Dean_. Maybe not.

It rang.

Dean sighed and tried to reach into the backseat. He could tell the ringing was coming from there, _shit has to be in my jacket pocket, uh, right one I think, that's where I last put it, that's where I always put it anyways. _He managed to haul the jacket up to the front seat next to him and was rooting around in the pocket when some asshole in a sleek sports car cut him off, screeching his tires and generally being a dipshit. The phone slipped out of the pocket and off of the slick vinyl seating, onto the floor where it quickly slid under the seat as Dean slammed on the breaks.

It wasn't ringing anymore.

Dejected, Sam dropped the phone, not caring if it landed anywhere near its cradle, and walked slowly back into the bathroom, leaving a trail of tiny drops of blood in his wake. He continued to worry at his lip, fully beyond caring at that point, and no longer feeling any pain. He braced his arms around the sink and dipped his head down to rest his chin on the cold porcelain and just let his lip flow freely. Buzzing started up in his ears and he couldn't bring himself to do anything as his legs gave out. He slid to the floor, knees hitting with twin thumps, as fresh tears cascaded down his face.

What're you going to do sammy? _Don't know what to do._ don't have a thing to do it with now. _I've got nothing. I'm coming up blank here._ Where's big brother now, when you need him most? when we've come out to play, hmm? _Oh, oh, Dean. Why now? Why here? Why did you take my stuff too? I don't understand! Why couldn't you have left me a note, or a weapon, or instructions, or a fucking sign, or anything at all? Please! Please! I don't know what you want me to do! _you promised you'd do anything. maybe now is the time to show your true colors, stop being such a coward sammy-

A bang echoed throughout the room. Dean bustled in, carefully putting down the food he'd picked up and glancing around. The dress and underwear were gone and so was his baby brother. He instinctively felt for the gun resting in the back of his pants and stalked forward. Sam hadn't bothered to turn around from where he knelt. He could feel that it was Dean, knew him from the second the door opened, smelled the food he'd just gone to get, and felt nothing but shame.

_I've been in here, bleeding, making myself bleed, contemplating trying to end my life again, probably have been alone for a grand total of 20 minutes, all because Dean wanted to go out and get me breakfast this morning. Because he was taking care of me. Even the voices, Jesus! What if I'd listened-? I was maybe a few seconds away and this time I would have maybe succeeded! What the fuck is wrong with me? Oh, God, Dean!_

Sam hadn't realized he was mumbling his thoughts aloud until he felt Dean's arms wrapping securely around him, tugging him back into warmth and safety, rocking him gently and slowly, not unlike the way Dean had taken him into the small hours the night before. Everything Dean did with his brother was careful, rough enough to be playful and satisfying, but never forgetting just how **young **Sam was, treating him as fragile, no matter how strongly Sam himself opposed. This time though, Sam was glad for the treatment, snuggling back and tuning back into the world around him.

"No tears, no tears Sammy. There now, I'm right here. Didn't mean to be gone so long, there was an accident, just wanted to get you a little something to eat so you could keep your strength up, since you're growing so much, want you to be big and strong, I'm sorry, I should have left a note or done something, so sorry, didn't even think you'd wake up until I got back, we went to bed so late last night. Sorry, sorry, Sammy, tried to answer the phone when you called, thought it was Dad calling actually or I would have tried harder to answer it, but well I was driving, and I know that's no excuse, not really, but the phone slipped, and some jerkwad cut me off-"

Sam buried his face in Dean's neck, pressing a free hand against Dean's mouth to silence the flow of practically meaningless words and unnecessary apologies. Dean stopped speaking immediately and was afraid for a moment when he saw the blood and felt something warm against his neck. He pulled Sam's face back and twisted it, checking carefully. Upon just finding a bloody lip, he frowned tightly.

"Sammy, why's your lip bloody?"

Sam blushed.

"When I'm worried, or concentrating, well. You do it too!"

"I don't bite right through it!"

"Well, so maybe I was really worried!"

Dean's face twisted unpleasantly and he looked away. He tried to speak and failed, swallowed with an audible click, and murmured "Thought I'd left you? Is that it?"

Sam's mouth worked a few times, desperately searching for the right thing to say, the right words to diffuse the situation, make everything as wonderful and perfect as it was the night before again. Dean cut him off.

"I wouldn't, I mean, did you really think that I could just go off and **leave you **like that? Is that what you think I'm going to do? God, Sammy, I mean Jesus Christ, to think I'd leave, are you, I mean, do you not want...? We can just forget about last night. It doesn't have to mean anything at all. We can start over, just go back to being brothers again, we're good at that, just go back to the way it used to be, it was better that way huh?"

He sped up so much near the end that Sam had trouble making out the exact words, but he understood the shuttering off of Dean's expression and his tone perfectly. He started shaking his head rapidly, hair flopping around undignified.

"Stop! Dean, no! I didn't, I was just confused okay? I was worried about you! I was confused and worried and didn't know where you'd gone and really, this didn't have anything to do with that, 'cause I would have been just as worried and confused if I'd woken up **alone, **without a note and with you neither answering your phone or calling me back, okay?"

Sam was bluffing. Sure, okay, maybe a big part of how quickly he'd become so worried may have had something to do with their not-so-brotherly extra-curriculars, but in all honesty, he'd worried himself into a frenzy on multiple occasions about things like this. This definitely was not a new development in the OCD that was Sam Winchester. Dean's face softened and Sam breathed an internal sigh of relief. Dean nodded and stood, helping Sam to his wobbly feet as well.

"Well, we need to get out of here. I've got food and I've packed up everything that's ours and now you're dressed so we really need to book it before Social Worker Lady and the police come knocking at our door. I've been trying to get in touch with Dad to see if he can call them and get us off the hook or something along those lines, but he must be pretty busy and hasn't had time to return my call."

Sam was feelings so relieved that Dean wasn't going to stop their affections, that he'd come back, that he didn't even argue about their father not making fatherhood and his sons his priority.

"Wait, are we leaving town entirely?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I wanted to say good-bye to Lexy before we left..."

Dean's face softened.

"Why don't you call her on the road? I'm sure she'll understand why we had to leave. And, I mean, you have her number, and if you don't think you'd be annoying the shit out of her, you can always call her. You know, keep in touch."

Sam smiled at his brother. He knew at some point in the future he'd end up telling Dean about how Lexy was an information gatherer for hunters and how she might actually be useful in the future, but he'd have to think carefully about how to escape the wrath of talking about the family business with an outsider. There'd be no way to easily tell their father either. He decided to just be happy, at the moment, that Dean had come back and they were together, and didn't say anything else, just grabbed the food and went out to the car. Dean looked flummoxed.

"What's wrong?"

"You're... I mean, if you're fine with going out like that, it's cool."

Sam glanced down at his dress and back up at Dean, a sliver of hurt shining in his big eyes. He nearly whispered "Are you ashamed to be seen with me dressed like this?"

Dean shook his head so hard it would have been comical in a different situation. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before strolling out the door behind Sam, closing it, and then walking quickly ahead and opening the passenger door of the Impala. Sam waited for him to do something, but Dean just stood there, looking around awkwardly as he held the door open. **For him. **Sam felt incredibly stupid and carefully climbed inside of the car, mindful of his skirt and keeping his legs together. Dean shut the door and hurried around to the other side.

"Ready to go Sammy?"

Sam nodded at him before fishing out a doughnut. He took dainty bites, feeling entirely transformed in the dress and Dean seemed to notice. He kept glancing over, occasionally licking his lips, though Sam didn't think he was aware of it. He hid a small smile at the thought that Dean was so turned on by Sam in women's clothes, but it quickly fell off his face when he realized just how horrible the miscommunication had been earlier. They'd have to sit down and talk so nothing like that would ever happen again. Sam sighed. Dean was **not **going to like this.


	30. Dean

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Beta'd, as always, by the ever loving and amazing Miss Tam!Comments and reviews are loved! Sponsored by (re)viewers like you.

This is it!

"Lexy, can you talk for a minute?"

"Yeah, Sam. What's up?" She was eating something crunchy, cereal maybe?

"Well, there were um. Some complications." The crunching stopped.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to call Dean? Or come and get you?" Sam cut her off before she got too worked up.

"I'm fine Lexy. really. I'm with Dean, don't worry." Lexy hurrumphed into the phone, but Sam ignored her and continued.

"No seriously. Anyways, I was just calling to let you know that we had to leave pretty immediately. CPS was getting involved and well, that's just never good."

"Have you spoken with your father?"

"Uh, yeah. Or well, Dean got a hold of him earlier this morning. He wasn't pleased, to say the least." Dean glared at him from the table he was lounging at. He was flipping pages, pretending to read a car magazine, but Sam could see it was at least two or three years old and Dean was spending the entire time staring at Sam anyways. He probably hadn't seen any of the cars in the entire thing. Sam coughed.

"I'll tell Sun that you had to leave and all that. Don't worry."

Sam nodded at the phone, mentally checking that off of his list of things to do.

"Well, thanks. For everything Lexy. Uhm." He cut himself off with another awkward cough. Lexy laughed softly in recognition.

"I'm not very good at goodbyes either."

Sam blinked a couple of times, determined not to cry, not to show any distress. It obviously failed because Dean was immediately at his side, with an arm around him, rubbing comfortingly up and down his side. Sam sighed silently and leaned into the touch gratefully. After a few seconds of silence, he cleared his throat.

"I gotta go Lexy."

"Take care of Dean and yourself, huh?"

"Yeah."

The line went dead and Sam carefully set the motel phone back in its cradle, leaning momentarily away from the warmth of Dean and missing it instantaneously. He quickly returned to his position and glanced up at Dean through his eyelashes. Dean continued his slow rub down of Sam's ribs.

"Dean?"

Dean internally rolled his eyes and cursed a blue streak. He'd known this was coming, known there was no way to avoid it and really, they should have had this talk a long time ago. _Maybe could have avoided Sammy hurting himself, trying to kill himself because of you, hmm? _

"Yeah Sammy?"

Sam hesitated for a brief minute before launching right into it.

"I have to know. I mean, don't, um, don't try and lie to me about this, okay Dean? This is really important, and I have to know if I forced you. I mean, I couldn't live with myself if I had and if we start up something, whatever this is, wherever this is going, and like, you didn't even want it, and I know that a lot of times, for me and Dad and 'cause we're family, you'll do things you don't really want to do and I don't want this to be that kind of thing-" Sam ran out of breath, panting and refusing to look at his brother.

Dean blinked a couple of times.

"What exactly do you think is happening here?"

Dean meant it honestly, wanted to know where Sam thought this was going, but Sam misinterpreted it, shoulders slumping, and an air of depression clouding his face. Dean had to put a stop to that immediately.

"No, no. Hold on. Okay one, I don't like lying to you and I really wouldn't about something like this. No, of course you didn't force me. I wasn't really prepared for you to come out with something like that because it was about the furthest thing from my mind; the furthest thing from the **truth**."

Sam nodded and bit his lip, sneaking a glance at Dean before darting his eyes away again.

"Okay, the real issue here, ya know, is the whole, we'd have to keep this a huge secret from everyone, especially Dad. That could be pretty much a disaster if he ever found out."

Sam nodded and bit his lip. He was tempted, _so tempted, _to talk about how their dad was never around and even when he was there, he wasn't really **there. **They could make out in his line of vision and he'd probably not even look up. _Probably. _

"Well, we'd just have to be careful. We can do that."

"Can we?"

They stared each other down for a few seconds. Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Sam spoke before he had a chance to though.

"We don't, I mean. I know you love women, you're always telling me how much you love boobs and stuff, so it doesn't have to just be me."

Sam looked away, running his own hand through his hair. _God, he'd be ripped apart with jealousy. He'd know too, know when Dean was grinning that grin of his, impersonating the Cheshire Cat, sneaking off to the bathroom with the attractive waitress in the low cut shirt with the lacy bra peeking out from her uniform, sneaking off under Dad's approving eye too. And Sam would just be there, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, but he'd know, somewhere inside, that it wouldn't matter how many waitresses and cute girls Dean fucked in dirty alley ways and out the backs of restaurants, that he, Sam, would be the only one Dean would ever come home to. And he'd just have to remember that when it was getting to be too much. _Sam took a deep breath.

Dean opened his mouth to disagree, to wonder how Sammy could peg him for such a cheating bastard when a thought occurred to him. _Maybe, if we agree that it doesn't have to be exclusive, he'll find someone. Someone better for him, someone not his older sicko brother. At least that way, it would help keep Dad off our trail, plus that way he'd have someone to take to prom. God knows how thunderstruck Sam is about those kinds of things. Bet he'll look so good in a tux too... _Dean's mind briefly wandered off before returning to the conversation at hand and sobering up slightly. He nodded, biting his lip. He watched Sam track the movement and idly wondered whether Sam even knew he was doing it.

"Okay."

Sam startled and looked at Dean, flashes of hurt cycling through his face. Dean frowned.

"Well, I just mean, it'll occupy Dad if he ever says anything."

Sam continued to look sad, nodding as he turned away. Dean sighed again and gently laid a hand on his baby brother's face, turning it back to him. He waited until Sam met his gaze before speaking again.

"Not doing that to you Sammy. Would never hurt you like that. But maybe this way, you could find someone else. Someone a lot better for you than me." Sam was shaking his head fervently before Dean even finished speaking. Dean quickly placed a finger over his lips before he could speak, however.

"Just let it be Sammy. Someday, you're going to leave. Don't even try and deny it. I've seen you going all goo-goo eyed whenever we pass by a college. I'm not an idiot, no matter how much of one you think I am. I know how smart you are, and I know how hard you work in school; how much you care about grades and learning everything you possibly can. You're going to grow up to actually be someone, be something important. I like hunting and I'm good at it, and I'm not saying you aren't, but you don't have a quest like Dad and I can already tell that you don't enjoy it like me."

Sam felt tears fill his eyes and suddenly, a rage overcame him. _How dare Dean make it out like that? He wasn't leaving him, his only brother and the only person he'd ever loved! How the fuck could Dean say things like that to him, look at him with those big sad eyes like Sam was the worst person in the goddamned world for actually wanting to go on to higher education? _

Dean didn't like the look in his little brother's eyes. He couldn't identify most of the emotions swirling around and then they seemed to narrow, to become almost blank. Dean felt his breath catch in his chest. _No! I'm not scared of Sammy. That would be ridiculous. He just... doesn't look like himself right now. That's all. _Sam felt his rage low in his belly, felt it close enough to where he was learning lust spiraled from that it was close enough. Sam stalked closer, face tilting and eyeing Dean in a predator's manner.

The next thing Dean knew, he was being manhandled around, clothes stripped off, aggressive and dangerously efficient. Sam practically pounced on Dean, pinning him quickly onto one of the beds in the room. He wiggled, yanking off his own clothes and getting tangled up in his pants for a minute before growling and savagely hauling them off.

Dean winced as he heard the zipper break. He kept opening his mouth to speak, to ask what the **actual fuck was going on? **But every time he did, Sam would hiss and glare at him. Finally, Dean just glared back and lay still, waiting to see what Sam would do.

He was arching and moaning before he could formulate a thought. Sam was grinding his bony hips down against him, bare skin sliding against each other, just a little sticky and too much friction. It hurt. Sam didn't seem to notice and Dean loved it. He gasped and brought his hands down to Sam's ass, slapping it hard before cupping it and rolling his hips harder. Sam went along with it for a moment, groaning and making some weird sucking noise as he buried his head against Dean's neck. He felt little droplets fall against him and his eyes closed, focusing on the pleasure roiling through his gut.

He heard another weird noise, more sucking noises, and kept trying to persuade himself to _open your eyes! What the hell is Sammy doing? God! Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. _He moaned and Sam responded with a small whine, writhing in small circles, digging into Dean's flesh with his hipbones. Sam pulled away and Dean keened with the loss. Before he had too much time to worry, however, he felt something wrapping around his cock. He opened his eyes, _goddamn finally!, _in shock as Sam sank, slowly, ever so slowly, down into his lap. He came off the bed, Sam was so tight. Dean started wiggling to get away.

"Sam! What the fuck are you doing? There's no lube, haven't even opened you up or anything, gonna hurt you, oh, _oh, _**oh!**"

Dean watched Sammy's throat flutter as he managed to work himself down further. His gaze dropped and he could see Sam's thighs quaking with effort to keep steady. He was balls deep and Sam didn't even give himself time to adjust or anything before he started up moving again. Dean growled, determined to reclaim control of the situation and wrapped his hands around Sam's waist, yanking him all the way back down. Sam screamed and pitched forward.

Dean hadn't bothered to lie back down, so he easily caught his brother, not even daring to breathe while shuddering sobs wracked through both of their bodies. He rubbed Sam's lower back, wanting to make it better, knowing Sam was probably bleeding and would be sore for days. Sam tucked his face into Dean's shoulder and nuzzled him there, apologies in every twitch. Dean sighed and Sam rocked his hips ever so slightly. Sam gasped against him.

"Oh, there. Please, God, Dean, right there, don't stop, don't ever stop, ohGodpleasetheretherethereye ssssss!"

Sam's words became muffled and incoherent as Dean assumed he was hitting his prostate or brushing over it at least. The rocking was gentle, he didn't need to be rough because Sam's anger, or whatever it had been, had apparently toned down, but the lust was there, and Sam clenched around Dean, determined to never let him go. Dean inhaled sharply and planting his feet firmly. He went slow, powerful thrusts deep into Sam, making him scream. Dean felt a dizzying pleasure in it and knew he couldn't last much longer.

Just as the thought ran through his mind, Sam stiffened in his lap and threw his head back, keening as he splattered all over both of their stomachs and chests. The rhythmic clenching and watching Sam fall apart drew Dean over the edge as well and he spiked up one last time before coming long and hard inside Sam. They panted, resting against one another and Dean carefully leaned back; loathe to let his brother go. As they went, he noticed, with some chagrin, that he'd bitten Sam in the heat of the moment, and hadn't noticed before. He winced a little and was happy he hadn't drawn blood. Sam moaned as he ran his hand over it and they both moaned when Dean twitched slightly, still inside.

He tried to pull out, feeling sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids, but Sam clenched up again and Dean couldn't handle the overstimulation, so he let it be. His eyes blinked closed and he was asleep within seconds, exhausted by the past few days and by his baby brother. Sam smoothed a hand over Dean's arm, murmuring into his ear, even though he knew Dean was sound asleep.

"I'm not saying I won't go. I'm not even saying that I probably won't go. But even if I do, it's you Dean. It's always been you. I may love others, maybe find someone special in college, I don't know. Maybe I'll even marry them. They'll have to know, though. They'll have to be okay with you, with what we have. And it'll always be you that I come home to."

FINIS

NOTES:

Oh my goodness! Thank you to all reviewers! I really appreciated it and a few times when I was just going to let this story lapse into nothing they really helped motivate me to keep it up! Thank you Lisa for betaing my first 3 chapters and thank you Tam for betaing chapters 4-everything else ever.

I can't even begin to express how much she helped with this story and how lost I would be without her and how having someone who really knows English well is so excellent to have as a you everyone for bearing with me on this!

So, I have a half-formulated idea about another story. It's completely unrelated to this one, (not a sequel or anything), and I can give a brief summary below, but the main thing is, I have no idea how to end it. So what I'd like to do here is I'm going to ask you to pick a number between 1 and 15 and message it to me or review the number. As an FYI, 7, 9, and 10 are REALLY SAD ENDINGS [hint hint].

That's about it folks! Thanks again!

As an update: Number 6 won! Thank you for everyone who took the time to message me about it, it was very helpful. I can't say when this other fanfic will be written (or even if it ever will be), but Tam has offered to beta for it, so that is a huge load off of my shoulders right there. Thanks so much to everyone again :D


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